Posted in Love

Home Movie

The real estate agent’s car was already there
bright, shiny, logo-ed
sporty, compact, part SUV, part status
expensive and proclamatory – the owner has done well.

They were young, impossibly without weariness
or cynicism,
standing at the gate – daring to dream.
He brushes her hand
she tugs his waistband – ephemeral – it might bring bad luck
hand in hand, down the driveway
children wishing Christmas
wondering if this is preposterous,
but…
The waiting realtor full watts $1000’s of implants
and whitening,
hands wave features, as a pointsman disciplines traffic.

They have learned each secrets
and bodies, before, there might have been others,
probably there were,
but everything till now is tinsel
packaging,
this is purity of consummation – hope and the future.

Advertisements

Author:

Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.