Today: instructed by a beautiful women in her 50’s.
She was fatted, oddly shaped, wore crushed trousers,
had cross eyes and boobs that began at her belly.
She was a rare sight, a rare type: when she looked
at you, it looked like she was staring
at the person sitting beside you.
which was curious and off putting:
But, nonetheless, she was a rare beauty…
She instructed the group on the basics of
Postal Service Standards.
and then dean!
18. the cutest boy i’d ever seen.
with a tiny little scar on the right hand
side of his top lip. fair hair. not too tall.
i wanted to kiss him softly. just once.
just to share that we were little human
fallible ornamental entities.
and his looks
sang to me
and i have him
pictured in my mind.
and i will never see him
again nor he I, and he will
never consider such thinking.
but i will. because i am a tad
undercooked and runny with emotion.
but it is these sort of beautiful
ugly utterly beautiful people
that make me love the world
secretly in my mind, where noone
can listen in.
and we sit in our minds:
like empty mansions.
like lonely bachelors.
crying over strangers.
as we pass our eyes
as we catch eyes
like a little bolt of electricity
that makes people wonderful
and sensitive and the world alive,
and war is dimmed with such thoughts
for a moment, and everything is perfect,
and then you wake up.
the cross eyed woman.
dean.
me.
my mansion.
and the millions
of anonymous
dead and dying
in our lives
in our heads.
truly,
a soft
kiss
can
never
offend
a
willing
lip.
and
who is
wild enough
to fall in love
with strangers
and remember them
until the coffin.
the courage of
my memory.
the power of
our eyes
a simple gaze
that directly caught
looks like hope…
what a poofter,
this world is,
ah,so afriad to
admit how much it
might feel!