hairless rapunzel

saturday, July 15, 2006

hairless rapunzel.
painting monet out of my window
and i fix my hair a different way today
to compliment the jumbled humming
of the public shuttle carrying folks to their graves
the red giraffe-like facade to my kingdom
tracing the crack from his veins
to my bedroom wall
the breeze from the ceiling fan shifts movement
to it's bed on the cement
after a two-story free fall
staring over my glasses, i watch him get into his car
spraying my perfume and spreading lotion onto my skin
speakers in his backseat and beside him his guitar
how could i ever mistake the love he's been in?
painting chagall on my window with my breath against the glass
i pull down the blinds to resist the skyline and the smoke
i wish i might on his falling ash, the questions i didn't ask
i'm a hairless rapunzel trapped on the second floor of a philly row-home
searching for escape routes in the mornings, while his slumber crowds the day
my lips are fixed on the emptiness between our words that fill the love that we make
those airy words are my poetry and his endearment is my sleep
painting picasso over my reflection on his glasses
nothing is where it's suppose to be