Dayvid Jann Figler
2011/06/01 § Leave a Comment
A poem by Dayvid Jann Figler of Las Vegas, Nevada
- on When We Two Parted
It doesn’t matter who I am.
It matters who I was.
Look deeply into my sunken eyes and
Find the sparkle.
There it is.
Now wait for….
The tingle creeping along your spine.
There it is.
Now wait for…
Damn! You’re awash in it.
We are now lovers.
I am used to this.
No matter where I am.
This happens if I let you get close.
No one can’t get close these days.
We are in a Dairy Queen.
I ordered a Blizzard (you hear me say… “Blizzard”).
We are giving produce the once over at Safeway.
We reach for the same Fuji apple.
We are at the self car wash.
I am smoking a cigarette like it was the greatest cigarette on Earth.
Want to know a secret?
Of course, you do.
(I abandoned all hope seven seasons ago).
I walked heel-toe on the edge of the grid
into devious convictions
And it suited me fine.
I’m set every 30 days for 10 days.
We shall be wed long before dawn.
Then, you will see my sores in the new daylight.
I predict humiliation.
It will be supplanted by glee in exactly 6-8 hours.
But now, you gather your clothes quickly.
The last thing you will see are my leathery lips
By your foolish kisses and stained by Trader Joe’s wine.
I wonder if you’ll tell your friends.
No one else will care.
I gave up and I still got you.
My lover, my wife.
We are both richer.
I close my eyes, again.
The last remnants of the day
Sneak through the wood slats
suspending dust in shafts above the couch.
Scatters as I rise.
Dayvid Jann Figler is firmly entrenched.