Terry's legs were crossed and pushed up against the glass facing Monroe st. I stepped in and

slide down next to her.

"You're late."

"I am a slow walker."
"Also an idiot."
"I know, a well crafted one." I said turning my cell phone off.
"Carved from a wonderful pile of shit."

"Yes of course." I said now looking at the menu behind me, and then back at her as she picked at a muffin. "A pile flown in from Savile Row."
"You wish, why did you cut your cell off?"
"What, and have someone disturb us? I'm not taking that chance."
"We're not in a hotel."
She smirked.
" I can't imagine what it is like to work here and have people like you come in."
She pulled at her hair and leaned on her elbows closer to the window.
"Did you want anything?" I asked standing up;she shook her head, and I headed to the front. I ordered a mozzarella and tomato sandwich, and watched as a young woman's hips shook slicing through a loaf of bread.

"I'm going to die M I realize that now."
"What? I think we all have a shot at that goal." I said again seating close to her.
"Isn't this a joke to you?"
"This sandwich? Yea 7 bucks with a bag of chips."
"No this." She said pointing with her eyes out into the street. "Look , look out there."
"Where?"
"Outside."
"What about it?"
"The people, the busyness."
I settled my eyes for a moment. My shoulders bowed forward as if I was watching television, and Terry was forcing me to wait for the good part. People careened back and forth, and the west's setting sun bathed cars in it's last remaining light. All the things that I have seen before. But I made an effort of trying to see things differently. Is it in the way these people walk; their accelerated pace and thousand mile stares. Again this is commonplace.
"The city life." I said softly. It was a common response, and I knew she wanted more recognition, but I was tired.

You are a spoiled

you know that don't you?





a huffer and a puffer
with no house to *blow



after midnight


you negotiate
with





your sighs


and your carbon dioxide



oh dear queen

your face red and pouting





you are still lovely

who is Ali Farka Toure
who are you


I have doubled back


cheap sunglasses and a pretty dress.


silent
but crashing.

The Dramatists

they will cancel each other out with all of their sighs,their paragraphs and their weight.


Oh


their bluster and their threats; projecting a pocket full of nothing while riding the busy wave of anything, and then returning back to their sighs, their paragraphs and their weight.

It is impossible to believe they wasted this go around with such a rendition.







This go-round that is on a stage,
that is on a stage,
that is on a stage,
that is not even there.

In their dreams


they even careen.


Their eyes open and their sentence continue.
The box tightens,the accusers return. The movie speeds up at the darting of their eyes.





that ungraceful illusion streaming out of their head

The Dramatist

I need room







I need more room to love you
the dramatists have filled the great dinner party,
their hands surrounding glasses and staring the way they do, at things that don't matter.



oh they are superbly dress. Their ideas floating above their heads for all to see--the darker ones are ignored, but the comfortable ones,polished and vindicated.


The directives are always hidden in the hand(the one the rope shakes from)


The Dramatist


(incomplete)

I must of given you 30,000 words




thirty thousand



I have explained myself and tighten my philosophy
I have stayed centered and used a different road.



I have been clearly recognized.








to me









I have stopped one train to wait on another
your not understanding me

The Big Empty tries to claim her

every moment seems new

she chases cicadas at night

drives erractic and smiles at me
the suit fits tight.
she fills her wine glass unsure of the protocal



"Are you serious? " She says

in a
A suit that doesn't quite fit


she is everywhere
and the
The Big Empty tends to its pit







her uneveness
this uneveness

We must clarify ourselves

what are you doing with my love

you are staring at the sun
and missing its reason













what are you doing with my love

you are dwelling in the rain
and forgetting the season

Do we know what love is?


is it the final question

I had a conditional idea
but now its unconditional

Am I naive?

I create a rule and watch HS break it,
then
lovingly twist
and






turned it





I allow her to do this instead of the ego. I have let her in.

I needed a new idea another way to live

A superstar; hard to resist.

so it seems when you are loving; when you are finding new clues to who you are. Bringing illusions to the truth.

Do we know what love is?
Because they love me--they do, all of them. Looking to see where it comes from I'm sure.


"is it my sex?" They ask themselves

still offering, spilling and unsure of their posts

I have created this atmosphere as the dictator to the unknown land.
A fucking fumbling isolationist who jumps on stage with an idea.



I have drawn those too distraction by their own discoveries.










all of us looking to understand what we already are.

she straighten her skirt and laid prone in the grass
I slowly positioned myself next to her
The park lights poured onto a pitchers mound and gave us ambiance.

I last saw the Dipper 23 years ago at my grandparents house in Michigan.
A jar of fireflies cradled in my hand and a pocket full of misgivings to quickly reach for.
here it is being pointed out to me again and I try to get comfortable.

"When things don't look the way I expect them to, it's time to stop questioning and start trusting."











Gary R. Renard "Your Immortal Reality"

but you have

could never give that up









the fresh flowers and house slippers.
freshly squeezed and its stainless sanctuary.


could never give it up for the coarse world and its beautiful cousin the unknown








*but you have

why must you know?
sounds like my old God

So many
and you must know

you must know who comes to lay an offering.

You must know whose mortar you are continuing to loosen
you must know whose life you are sacking


the allegiance destroys ideas
sucking magnesium from the bones
sounds like my old God

she sits across from me with every apeture closed but one.

Should I be?
Should I be honored that the *Queen is dreaming of me?

I am hovering in the shadows of your court



Oh Great Queen
shot from many angles
admired in all of them.

The *elaborate one

I am a mere fodder in your abbey
one who just smells your smoke not kisses its source
walk on me dear jewelled one, with your turned ankle and your yellow buckle shoes
so I can at least feel your touch.

yield to the willow
all the loathing
all the desire of your heart.

-BASHO

Let it go







your higher self doesn't give a fuck
about the constructions you have created in your life




your ideal marriage
Audi station wagon
Gap pocket T
your church







It is not looking to oversee the groove you are carving
the theology handcuffs you are looking to secure


your 401k
your resentment








your personal evolution is all it cares about

all it loves

But your big brain has begun

with its

distraction
stuck in books and classes that stave off the inevitable.



The I am doing




Your claviger does not care about your disputes only your submission






let it go.

your foyer is admirable

i need to step into
another room


please
a quieter one,
a comfortable one
one devoid of sticky substances and apologies

How many times can you take my coat?
How many times can you ask me about the weather?

please
allow me your hospitality
let me into your other rooms.

i saw her yesterday














i wasn't looking for her.
only continuing to forget



i did not see her eyes or her neatly blemished face.


i didn't have too


her walk was unmistakable




An elegant cadence, shoulders steady, her purse twisting under her forearm. This walk which started us up, becomes--years later, the last page of a book that won't turn.



i don't want her anymore





i studied her back and watched her pull further ahead into a mix of people.

She crossed a street and into an office building.