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Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Driving To Dallas

Driving To Dallas

There is no pretending I don’t need you.

My passion driving
            Like an Audi at eighty-five miles.

I won’t pretend I’m not being consumed by need.

I again turn to him
            And he cared for me,
As I cared for his needs
            When he was broken,
And he took me in
            Knowing of my need.
There is a long history there;
            We are not lovers but friends who love.

I won’t need to pretend he is you.

No tears this time will be shed -
            We retreat to his bed.
Not lovers,
            But friends who love;
He will shut the world out
            As we fall into his bed,
So familiar as when it lay
            Beneath his parents’ bedroom,
And he raised his passion
            To meet my desperate need –
I had immediate need of you
            And he filled it.

There is no pretending.

And as hunger and hope emptied,
            He filled that too.
For this time, my dammed need
            Is allowed to set our rhythm
And he allows me, passion
            Releasing and releasing again.

Exhausted, we laid entwined
            In his arms and long legs.
There is no pretending they are yours.
            Not lovers, but friends who love.
But as he slept, still driven by you,
            I rose & purged myself of him;
Purged his sweat from my body,
            My body of his food,
My mouth of his taste,
            My core of his seed.
Purged it of everything that was not you
            And then, stripped again to my essence
I again returned to his bed;
            His arms habitually enfold me.
Not lovers, but friends who love.

There is no pretending they are yours.

He did not take offense,
            Even knowing as he did
The precautions I took – filling my womb
            Inhospitable to his seed.
We are not lovers.

In the morning
            He will rise above me again
Aware that, heartbroken, passion unmatched
            Will drive me again without reason.
On instinct, on impulse;
            It will not be safe.
The day must be met
            But not alone – My layers fall,
Peeled away and our rhythm again
            Is paced by my incessant need.
He will console my desire again
            And then feed me as you will not,
Take me back into his life for that brief time
            Then let me drive away.

We are not lovers now
            But friends who love.

There is no pretending he is you.

We are not lovers. Now.

Aug 4, 2005

This is both a Tiger & a Stranger poem.
State Street, Salem, Oregon -photo form city archives,
color-editting by CC Willow

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