By Rhetoric
Date: 2001 Nov 24
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[[2001.11.24.11.30.32153]]

The Things You do for Love

through your hollowed stares, I sense the spoil
of the marvelously yummy man I held so dear

where once I saw far off lights shimmer hazel eyes,
now, greasy flesh is illuminated and made pale
by the blinking neon cherry and cyan Pepsi sign

the past glee that came from tracing intricate blooms
on soft skin, so gently perfumed with plumeria soap,
is forever reduced to meaningless rubs from coarse hands

the shock that follows each late-night telephone encounter,
traced to a bar in Paris, holds your voice to my ear for days

when the letter carrier brings me postcards from the Mojave,
touting Greetings from Coyote Canyon, I vainly refuse delivery

all these tacky attempts at love mix and mire in my head
leaving only a soup of regret and a stew of muffled screams