The strong, blistering wind cuts through my leather jacket...
I huddle to keep the cold at bay...
Three months ago I was cursing the sun, beating it back behind the clouds; wishing for a cool November day...
She was here and animated when the sweat poured down my shirt, and the air conditioning was broken...
When the leaves began to fall, she packed her sweaters and left without a word being spoken...
We used to laugh at our ridiculous plights... We slept with three fans on those summer nights...
Now the furnace is on the fritz, as I shiver by the open oven; mismatched sweat suit and a bathrobe; what a laughable sight...
You couldn't wait to leave until springs leaves began to bud?
You had to leave me standing here in the chaos and the mud?
I know that being with me was really getting kinda old...
But did you have to leave me naked; shaking in the cold?
I watch as she arrives
from my bedroom window.
creeping up my drive.
I open the door, she smiles.
we both knew what time it was.
Fresh out of the club.
she came to me!
bodies crying for me.
wearing a sweat suit,
with nothing beneath.
her fragrance, a musky fruit,
laying there in her birthday suit.
We do what it do!!
I feel like a feather, drifting through empty space .
No wind,
time non-existent..
I've just sinned,
and I grin...
This girl is not a barbie doll,
for me maybe a bit to small.
But in our case,
We're both considered a booty call...
Jared Pickett
11/24/09
Asavvy1
The Hindu God, Kali, has two faces.
She is life and death, beauty and ugliness,
motherliness and destructiveness.
She was my muse.
She bought me helicopter rides high over the city.
We ate elaborate meals with guests.
At regular meals we had starch soup and things made in one pot.
She boiled noodles,
and after they boiled,
she took out the noodles and we drank the soup.
She boasted independence,
but called mother every day.
She was a psychologist
And I shrunk from her words.
She made her own clothes and was quick with a needle.
She loved to garden and play in the dirt, alone.
She and her chubby and large breasted friend, Shri Lakshmi ,
laughed at my brown, velour, sweat suit.
I was her mate.
I was her pet.
I did the heavy lifting,
walked the dog
and took my turn shopping.
Landing lights blinking in the twilight,
Beneath the turbines howling blast,
And the scream of descent;
Stark and still, staring into midnight
As the neon rushes past
And the wheels connect cement.
Discourse babbled from the concourse
Walking through arrival lounge despair
In a sweat suit of escape;
Crooked walk, limping like a lame horse,
Spinning like a lab rat here and there,
As the world melts out of shape.
Landing lights flashing at the last flights
Beneath the uptake jet propelled
As the wings eclipse the sky;
Turbulence jerking through a bomb site,
And the eyes are thus compelled
To watch the metal fly.