Tag Archives: not wanting to go home

Artifice Joy

This set, where the young lover lived,

a cozy apartment above Chinese take-out

and boutiques and a distant, false,

Greenwich Village street.

I sit here, on the bed, the set dresser’s

idea of what a young woman’s bric-a-brac

would be, as the century burns out, exhausted.

I smoke French cigarettes. I dream of her.

The young lover, the actress refined, sharp,

in fine clothes and soft, consuming white furs,

the warmth swallows you into sleep, dreams

of what you hide behind your bed.

The fur hat, Russian Grand Duchess of a

strongman’s age, 22 is made for serpent kisses,

and she is soft and timeless as alabaster statue

in ruins on the street in Alexandria.

I am not a Christian; I’d have to be human first,

and I put the sigil under the bed for when the

young lover and the handsome lead have their

love scene, to mainline the glamour, artifice joy.

I dream of her, make her face into an angel’s laughter,

or a distant, beatific restlessness as I sleep in this bed,

home being where The Devil is waiting for me, and I know,

if he offered the chance to be her, I’d take it. I’d take it.

Where does one get French cigarettes at 2 a.m., in London,

when the angel’s are all stuck hustling tricks by Picadilly Circus,

and I have to slice off the instrument of hate, to be whole,

to not spread tears. Her tears would heal me. Fucking shakes!

The Devil is waiting for me, and I know if her offered the

chance to be her, I’d take it. I’d take it.

After The Show

I have to go home. I don’t want to go home.

The windows are down. My favorite song is

playing loud. She is here. She keeps me safe.

Ears ringing from the show. Radiating. Dreamy.

Like an angel, I’m floating in the air.

I look at her. Best Friend. Older sis, not by blood.

She is steadfast. A statue. The quiet of a healer.

I know she’s steel forged in fires of darkest hell.

Mighty and strong forever. She is a hard ass angel.

So much fun at the show. Music took me out of

this world, out of being meat and thought, a soul

again, a thing of light, beyond even the stars.

I have to go home. I don’t want to go home.

She pulls into my driveway. Gives me a hug.

She stays, makes sure I get inside. I wave goodbye.

Quietly, I go to my room. House is dark and still.

I get undressed in my room, and get under covers.

I fall asleep easily for once. Not troubled by my dreams.