01 October 2008

lisa latourette

junk love or withdrawal part 1: denial

we sat across from each other in
that Chinese place with the gold

wallpaper and mirrors on the walls,
one red poppy in every vase on

every table, deep red, sin-red,
new york red, I looked into its dark eye,

drunk, looked at you over fancy drinks,
mai-tais and tequila sunrises

your pale mushroom face, your eyes
a silent thunder and we agree to

keep going keep drinking
the waitress always hovering

our reflections bending and twisting around
the cold room, it’s getting dark outside

it’s getting summer outside but still
winter in both of us

excuse the mirror images
ignore the reflections

it’s just me and you, kid,
forget what dances in the periphery:

we are tough as jazz, cities
built on our shoulders.

good listener

this title
seems to follow me wherever I go

these people spot me from great distances
& now I can spot them too:

wet worm-hole of your mouth is opening,
it glistens sickly pink
I knew, I knew as soon as I saw you
it would open & suck me in with
its hunger, greed, pulling, tugging

you think I’m like you
(whatever that is)
but you don't care what I am

you somehow believe
I’ll understand you and listen quietly
you knew I would do it,
it never matters how desperately
I signal you
bang my eyes closed from inside,
shutters to keep you out

because you
are a fly, wobbly & dumb,
aimless until
you smell it, like blood or shit,
my weakness:

you KNOW I won’t walk away.

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