A few loves, a lover

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I was reading Langston When I came across his poem about rivers that run deep into one’s veins   And the river pictured in my mind melts into the banks of the Schuylkill, like the snow just after January. On the fringes of sidewalks next to boathouses, there are dried salt marks faint at a quarter past one. I was born by the river on a May afternoon Under a gray dreamer’s sky swept along by billowing gusts of wind Along the edges of the muddy banks and cement walls, my lungs skim the water’s surface.  


I want to be bold. Brazen. Exude a shine that has nothing to do with bronzer. But I can’t help that I like that shade of dark metallic rose in the Lancome case. You see, I want to age like wine You age like milk, curdling as the days pass. No I am not like that. But here, it is hard to tell if it is the spark of intellectual thought that has got me feeling so bubbly or if it is the bubbly, and brew  Every Saturday night and I wonder if I wasn't to age like wine -- Become sweeter with each year Ten times better today than five years ago or five months even (Like Wine, Uncorked, I'd mist and send a chill down your throat as you reminisce on memories and anticipate the future) Aged wine is delectable in the future, confident that who it is, is who it wanted to be.  

Then what? Would I just be a wine taster, and surely I've had it less than beer pumped through a nozzle frothing like the vomit from that poor boy who just stumbled down the stairs He goes first to the bathroom his friend says,  Priorities. And I decide whether to make mine wine making or tasting.  


Covered myself with shipping wrap Layers upon soft crush-resistant white, opaque foam, layer Mailed the package far away, Express.    Only to realize, I shipped myself back. You unwrapped me in an instant. 


You’re inside me, in the corners of arteries that run through my heart. In the drop of temperature on a day like today, cloudy, searingly cold, like the nitrate that cooled the blue rubber ball at the Franklin Institute Science Museum when I was nine and in grade school. It shattered.   


Created: Jul 04, 2012

Tags: sampler

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