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Thursday, October 8, 2009

YOUNG LOVE, It Drifts Away, III

It Drifts Away, III

When we had met, mask of youth,
And its costume was still upon you,
Then the next year, 9/11, it marked the city forever,
Downtown burned, towers had fallen, and all the dead,
Though today, it hard to believe,
The smell dominated the air,
Yet there at last days of December, it was,
All the way to West 26th Street,
A bad omen, I guess.

I remember that Christmas Eve,
Your first and only holiday spent in New York,
You later confided.

You were different then, more girl
Than the grown woman you are today.

You had bought silver jewelry,
I was at market and you stood before the showcase,
Studied the pieces, awaited me to make the move
And price to drop, bargained without word,
Used patience as your tool, you figured,
I was in a hurry, wanted to get home.

It seems halcyon, when I look back,
Though the impact of that disaster surrounded us,
When I picture you, recall your eyes
Expectant, be-all, the end-all,
Tomorrow’s promise, stayed awesome and bright,
I want to say, etched,
But no lines, at that time visited your face.

You were different then, more girl
Than the grown woman you are today.

And you appeared happy, light upon your feet,
I judge your back had not come to bother you yet.
You had a man, and you relished in his friendship,
Maybe you wished the start to family,
Saw for yourself a real, happy ending, hey?

My defenses were still intact,
No idea you would play, lead in dream-wish drama,
Whose title read, cherished above all others,
That when I fell within the sphere of your limbs,
I would start believing,
Make it an apostle’s creed, a matter of faith,
Though love be only a feeling, it drifts away.

All good sense and sensibility abandoned, I was yours,
The pleasure of your company engulfed me,
And once I placed my hand upon your knee,
Oh heart beat, beating fast, lasting long, day after day,
Together, no matter what I might have done,
However I might have conspired to end it.

You said, love, now and forever,
I know it’s trite, nothing I should write,
Unworthy of poetry, your promise,
Yeah, until the end of time, and you,
Today I feel, as if, you had purposefully played me,
You laughed at notion, desire might ever wane,
Though love be only a feeling,
You swore ours here to stay.

Anyone who seeks,
Fervidly wants dream come true,
Gets the sense of what I am saying, knows
The terrible desire, that were it possible,
A replay of yesterday’s grassy splendor,
To enjoy again the glory in the flower,
Despite the rapid descent, the finality marking,
Every bit of human radiance and beauty,
No matter how grand, ambitious the effort,
-- Isn’t it already written? --
The rainbow comes and goes,
Some where out at space time’s edge,
Gamma ray bursts post daily funerary notice.
Entire worlds disappear, who calculates that agony?

No human comprehends the sorrow,
Immensity overwhelms us,
And we might simply shrug our shoulders,
What answer when there is pain and life no more?

We acknowledge how impossible to variegate the end,
Great, bright light, then extermination!

And for us, for you and me, it is same story,
Anguish, the very definition,
To cling to silly notions, and hold them right,
When the telephone is off the hook,
And all the doors are shut.

World knows, love, only a feeling,
It drifts away, and, I, fool, believed, I believed,
I thought at odds, forgot the foreboding,
Paid no heed to events, the remains,
The awful atmosphere of Christmas, that December,
Instead, sure we had mastered of our affections,
Our land, the land called Eden,
Positive we had won, and continued the delusion
That, and as you had promised, ours was special,
And contrary to every dictate of reason,
I had come to believe we had found it,
Love, here to stay, bright sun, morning after morning,
Endless awakening, fresh flowers everyday,
A bed with gorgeous sheets and pillows fluffed,
Despite love, it being only a feeling,
Like the youth, we at one time owned, and
Had been our possession, it drifts away.

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