procrastination

come here.
sit down next to me.
for once, let us talk our heads silly
about it -
the inevitably broken heart,
the light and shade of truth,
the pretext of coming and going.
we both know that it will all lead
to the same scenario.
i can see it all now:
i want you to think i am stoic and
god-like, unhurt by calamities so i sit down calmly, eyes dry, while
you bend over with apologies. you are a wreck - a truck
overturned by the sudden push and pull of an unexpected event.
but what do words have to do with anything
at this point? i say i never saw it coming and
privately you think me a bit foolish because it has
happened so many times you are wondering when
i would catch on. you are looking at me as if for the first time. you question
whether i am really as smart, as unhurried as i claimed i was. i used to
say, because I was so young,
that I believed in nothing. leave me and i would not even notice.
everyone is someone else's antidote. you take this as a truth,
as a part of me, like an appendage or a finger.
but privately, i admit that unjustified as it may seem,
there is still the subject of love. even you cannot deny it -
the fact that it exists between us, like a table or a roof over
your head (once). it has already taken the
shape of your cushions, the curve of your arm around
my shoulder. there was nothing like our orange afternoons, i claim, but what have
emotions (mine) have to do with newness, with old/found lovers?
you are decidedly bewildered, like i left you out
of the conversation. slowly, you let yourself drift off peacefully,
allowing yourself to be mesmerized
by her unrealities, her golden mouth. slowly i see you locking all doors, shutting
every creavice leading in and out of you, swallowing your
various keys so that nothing might be wasted on me,
on my pitiful figure so full of hope for returns (yours),
now lying on the floor. and i want to say do not leave
because there's still leftover wine.
there's still the moon, so much dancing to be done.
the band has not stopped playing. don't you hear that?
don't you hear anything other the piano keys
on the other side of the ship - the sound that has pulled
us together and has toppled us overboard.
everytime, you are left in pieces. i try finding you.

but you are gone before i know it.

i want you to know that my eyes are still dry, inspite of you.
i always expect spilled milk.

seeing all this, i change my mind suddenly. today, rules can be broken
because we are laughing and talking about
something riotous.
there is always tomorrow, anyway. it is a tiger burning holes
in my head, waiting to pounce.