The Old Fashioned Way

I’d like to call you in the old fashioned way
Ringing your 7-digit number slowly, one at a time
My index finger snug inside the plastic ring
Turning the dial all the way to the end
Then releasing and watching it fall back into place
A soft ring telling me it’s time for the next turn

I’d like to listen to the slow clicking sound
Of a pulse mode telephone as the digits register
Then that long wait until the lines connect
With the crackling and hissing of an analog era

It would mean precious seconds to think of
Something to say before you answer
Your long fingers cradling the receiver
As you speak into the mouthpiece
Hello?
Not Hey! How you doing? Or
About time you called!
Hello? A question, a plain and simple enquiry
Uncertain and reticent

I’d like to call you on your old red telephone
With the simple white dial
No tattle tale caller ID to reveal
Who it is on the other end of line
No knowing for sure if the fingers dialling your number
Are ones you would want to kiss
Or cut off

I’d like to call you in the old fashioned way
When no tiny little computer chip tells you even before
You hear the sound of my voice
How many letters are there in my name,
The colour of my hair
Or the day that I was born

And then I’d like to say it’s me as I try
To detect whether the tone of your voice
Is saying hang up now
Or stay.

Quiet Cups of Coffee

Blue clouds and quiet cups of coffee
Are all I see now in my dreams
And all I can hold with these hands
No more falling down endless stairs
And clutching on to slippery rails
Those straight lines you drew,
They no longer exist
Or define and shrink to fit
This life inside and out
Or the sweet torment within
And those crazy jagged circles,
They're all gone too
They've crept into their tiny holes
Leaving you standing outside

Blue clouds and the quietest cups of coffee
Are all that rise and fall now
In my dreams,
And upon this old windowsill.

Your Number

Today I got your phone number again
And once again I will not call
Because everything we ever had to say
To each other has already been said
If we tried to speak now
It would only mean that there were
Things left unspoken and unheard
And if that were the case
It would not have been possible to go on
You would not be yourself
And I wouldn’t be me
If we hadn’t already heard and said it all
Between the two of us
Those things that have helped
You remain mine
And I yours
Things that have once been said
And will never be repeated again.

I’m not like you
Just because
We listen to the same songs
Or like the same movies
Eat the same food
Or drink the same wine
I’m not like you
Just because
We laugh at the same jokes
Or share the same disease

You’re not going to like me
For the things I say
Or the words I write
The dreams I weave
Or the hopes I inspire

So don’t tell me
I’m beautiful
Or I’m the best
Don’t call me goddess
Or genius
Or buddy
Your pal

Don’t write my name
Over and over
And look for me in places
You’d like for me to be
Don’t tip-toe around
The demons in my head
That you think you can see
Don’t cross any rivers
Or step over boundaries
You will not find me

Look over shoulder
Or under your pillow
Outside your window
Or beyond the walls
I’ll be there
Inside your chest
Holding your heart
Inside your head
Reading your mind
Inside your veins
Drinking your blood
I will be there.

Games We Play

We play the tug of war,
My muse and I.
Pushing and pulling
Till one of us falls.
Giving up, while the other
Gives in.

We roll the dice,
My muse and I.
Shaking and tossing
Till one of us wins
Triumphant and proud,
The other shortchanged.

We traverse the board,
My muse and I.
Advancing and retreating
Till one of us knocks the other out.
Strategic plans and wily moves,
There can be only one winner.
And with an outcome like this,
It's tough to tell.

Scaling up those walls she thinks
I could climb on forever
Even if I never reach the top
It’s the going back down that scares me
 
Walking down the road she thinks
I could walk on forever
Even if I never get to the end
It’s the turning back that haunts me
 
Chipping at the wood she thinks
I could wield this axe forever
Even if the wood runs out
It’s the laying down that numbs me
 
Punching at the keys she thinks
I could dial this number forever
Even if the battery runs out
It’s the answering that freezes me
 
Peeling at the layers she thinks
I could skin these forever
Even if the flesh runs out
It’s reaching the core that worries me
 
Sucking at the straw she thinks
I could drink like this forever
Even if the bottle runs dry
It’s the filling up that torments me
 
Striking up the matches she thinks
I could light up like this forever
Even if there’s no friction left
It’s the empty air that disarms me

July 13, 2005

Cheyenne

I see her in my dreams sometimes,
Sometimes in the bathroom mirror
When it's fogged up and warm
And my feet are cold.

I see her in his eyes sometimes,
Sometimes in my smile
Hiding the cold hard fears
Of an unused life.

I see her in my hair sometimes,
Sometimes in his eyelashes
That pour out a sweetness
I could never contain.

She never runs to me
Nor I to her.
We stand facing the sun
In different directions
And on separate lines.

I might have held her once
Too close and too long
It could have been everything
It could have been enough
Just enough.