Saturday, January 19, 2008
Monday, January 14, 2008
Wisdom Under Fire
It was the kind of sunset that would be painfully beautiful had it been in any other sky. He faced it with his back, polishing the steely barrel of his rifle, a dog-eared black and white photo resting on his lap. His jaw line was a cable stretched from a wrecking ball to the collar of his taupe and beige fatigues.
"Is that your wife, Sarge?" I offered, my wavering voice revealing more than I meant it to.
"Listen Pierce," He said. "There is no perfect woman out there. You make your own soul mate. My advice to you is to go out there and find yourself a piece of pussy that works good for you, and try to love the woman attached to it like she is the only woman in the universe. Your heart will fall into line soon enough. And you'll pray to God every night that you just don't get killed , so you can go home and make sure she never feels the same pain that you are feeling right now."
And with that the sun snatched back its glory, and ducked out of the reach of the sky.
"Is that your wife, Sarge?" I offered, my wavering voice revealing more than I meant it to.
"Listen Pierce," He said. "There is no perfect woman out there. You make your own soul mate. My advice to you is to go out there and find yourself a piece of pussy that works good for you, and try to love the woman attached to it like she is the only woman in the universe. Your heart will fall into line soon enough. And you'll pray to God every night that you just don't get killed , so you can go home and make sure she never feels the same pain that you are feeling right now."
And with that the sun snatched back its glory, and ducked out of the reach of the sky.
Whispered For
A whisper landed on her lips.
Just a whisper. Not a kiss.
A kiss would have been quite remiss
and told much more than whisperer's wish.
The whisperer speaks of trivial things.
Just trivial things. Nothing of rings.
For rings imply such curious things
But none of these things a whisperer brings.
A whisperer longs for the thrill of the chase.
Just for the thrill. Not for the taste.
The taste turns sour when held in one place.
So on runs the whisperer not to break pace.
Just a whisper. Not a kiss.
A kiss would have been quite remiss
and told much more than whisperer's wish.
The whisperer speaks of trivial things.
Just trivial things. Nothing of rings.
For rings imply such curious things
But none of these things a whisperer brings.
A whisperer longs for the thrill of the chase.
Just for the thrill. Not for the taste.
The taste turns sour when held in one place.
So on runs the whisperer not to break pace.
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