a little after four in the afternoon

smoking
I catch my father in the glass
staring back at me
with half lidded eyes

but the curls give it away
his hair is too long
cheeks too soft
I look left
and his gaze follows me

looking straight ahead
we engage in that classic contest of wills
staring each other down
we crack simultaneously blinking and looking away

Me, looking for my mother.
him, looking for I know not what.
I see her soft cheeks
and round eyes
as I lift my lids up
to greet my own

The perils of swimming

His body upon me
weight on my back
shadows in the dark.
suddenly,
the tide has me
I've swum beyond my depth.
I'm dragged out to sea
drowning
in my memory of pain.

His body upon me

I transcend time and space.

 fourteen  and tipsy on wine

impressed by a senior letterman jacket,

I don't notice the change in tide

until the water's to deep to swim.

His body upon me
my cries are swallowed by the waves.
my insides burn
I float face down
like driftwood
tossed about by the tide
discarded by the sea.

late at night

                                                                                                                    Late at night

                                                                                      you sneak into my thoughts

                                                                                like the early morning sun

                                                                              streams into my room

                                                        through the cracks in the curtains

                                                                              so carefully hung

                                                                  tucked behind the books

                                                    and that camera I never returned

                                                             I cannot shake loose the dust

                                                                                      of your memory

                                                                                          no, I am pinned

                                                                                                  like my curtains

                                                                                              shut tight against the sun

                                                                                                that creeps into my thoughts

                                                                                                                                  late at night.

Light

We appear briefly in history
if we show at all
just one brief shining moment
our light barely has time
to travel the length of our most distant star
before it has gone
extinguished
with all our hopes and dreams.
In light of this short window
I choose to shine brightly
so that my glow
will last the length of the universe
and back again.

An Angry Letter, unsent...

Dear _____________,

Why the fuck won't you send me my pictures? Do you realize this makes you more of a scumbag than that  fat englishman who took six months to pay me back the 400 dollars he borrowed, at least he had the excuse of not having a job. What fucking excuse do you have for being such a prick? Is the postal service too complicated for you? Do you not understand how to buy stamps? Was it not enough to break my heart, must you now humiliate me further by withholding this one last thing? Keeping me tethered to my mail box always searching for word of you? You are a fucking asshole. There is no question about it, you are a prick. I shall stick to what I said last August; of all the scum bags I have known you are by far the worst. At least the others were decent enough to feel shame.

And I'd send you this letter but I can not see the point. I loved you once at expense of myself. It cost me pieces of my heart, my mind, my soul,  my freedom, my body, my energy, my spirt, and my hope. And once you'd spent your pieces of eight, you made off like a pirate with the bounty of my love.  So may you grow like a onion with your head in the ground.  Even with all your layers you are forever upside down and obscured by dirt. You make me want to spend my nights looking up Yiddish curses. If I met you on the street or outside of the acupuncturists office I could hurl them at you the way the British and French forces compelled themselves over the battlements at the Somme.

Do the right thing and know that I will not think poorly of you. Or don't and know that I should hope to see you on one leg and that you should see me with one eye.

Shalom,
TGG

kissing you breaks my heart (Desire)

With every sweet vanilla kiss,
my body aches and arches
bending, contorting, stretching
to find satisfaction.

your teasing touches
craft desire out of distance.
sweet whimpers in my ear
send shivers down my spine.

and I wish with every fiber
to be like other girls;
heady with desire,
desperate with need,
easily gratified by the kind caresses
the soft touches
that your teasing tongue implies.

II.

yet even as desire mounts

reality crashes in 

dragging my wishful thinking out

to see truth lying naked

in the streets of my mind;

toying with a dull penny

bored with a toy,

that only yesterday

seemed new.

frustration builds

finding its way

into my flesh, 

electric.

I miss the sweet sting

the transfer of power

as you light up my skin

turn me red with desire.

III

Kissing you breaks my heart

makes me wish for ordinary

reduces my hopes

leaves me wanting more

Steinbeck letter about love

New York
November 10, 1958

Dear Thom:

We had your letter this morning. I will answer it from my point of view and of course Elaine will from hers.

First -- if you are in love -- that's a good thing -- that's about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don't let anyone make it small or light to you.

Second -- There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you -- of kindness and consideration and respect -- not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn't know you had.

You say this is not puppy love. If you feel so deeply -- of course it isn't puppy love.

But I don't think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it -- and that I can tell you.

Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it.

The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it.

If you love someone -- there is no possible harm in saying so -- only you must remember that some people are very shy and sometimes the saying must take that shyness into consideration.

Girls have a way of knowing or feeling what you feel, but they usually like to hear it also.

It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another -- but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good.

Lastly, I know your feeling because I have it and I'm glad you have it.

We will be glad to meet Susan. She will be very welcome. But Elaine will make all such arrangements because that is her province and she will be very glad to. She knows about love too and maybe she can give you more help than I can.

And don't worry about losing. If it is right, it happens -- The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.

Love,

Fa

http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2012/01/john-steinbeck-on-falling-in-love-a-1958-letter/251375/