An Impassioned Beauty Speaks

I sat alone
the only one in the audience
unmoved.
She stood alone
the only one in the room
speaking.

He, next to me, about to cry,
She, next to me, with wild eyes,
I, inside me, staring around,
until my eyes set on the ground,
itself unmoved.

I noticed her head, the parted lips,
the nervous twitching of the hips,
that sometime whisper, sometime shout
from a usually soft voice, seeking –

Seeking what? Clout? Out?
Perhaps just wanting to spout?
An incoherent stream of consciousness,
words falling as if in a rainstorm,
a truly babbling brook.
No book can help me understand this.

Was she reaching out to me?
Were we naked, under a tree,
My bare back scratched slightly by the bark,
her bare arms, uncoiling like a snake towards me?

Oh, if only I could see!
But I was alone
the only one in the audience
unmoved.

Note: An old poem of mine. From September 2002.

1 Comment

  1. That’s deep man. I mean it. In an instant one gets the duel emmotions of lonliness and of living a day dream. Perhaps it is the lonliness of the day dream, the emptiness that is felt when you realize that all it was was a brief moment in your thoughts, that it wont ever happen. I know the feeling which is why I think this is what you are saying.

    But what do I know?

    How were mid-terms? Everything wrapping up nicely?

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