Popsicle

We had 

a simple popsicle
between us.

I asked her
“do you want 
to split it?”

“No, but 
I’ll share it.”

She knew 
I’d eventually
understand.

This is the difference
between 
mine and ours,

and I pray 
it informs 
my every interaction,

and this was how
she used 
a simple popsicle
to teach me
a profound lesson 
in loving. 

Fondly, Like a Pop Single

Whenever I hear
that song
“Walking On Sunshine”
I remember
she said it described
how loving me
made her feel.

Eventually,
she left
when she could no longer
tolerate and wait
for me to stop
sharing my life
with someone else.

Decades passed,
roads diverged,
different paths taken,
families sprouted.

I hope I am
remembered
fondly,
like a pop single

and not regretfully
as a shiny,
impermanent
impulse buy

made from the
“As Seen on TV” aisle
at the Walgreens.

Reaching For the Pull

I approach the door
cautiously,
my footsteps
heavy and slow.

I am deliberately
making this choice,
and I accept
whatever consequences
await me.

Things will never
be the same
when I cross
that threshold,
but I must do this.

Nothing’s going
to bring back
my father,
and I’ve been in pain
so long,
I’ve gone numb.

Whatever I find
in the coming steps
will determine
my path
from here
into eternity.

Reaching
for the pull,
a fleeting thought
nags:

Am I arriving
or am I leaving?

[Written for Dverse Poets - write about a door; photo used by permission by Lillian Hallberg.]

Turnaround

I planned
to make the
Riverside to Fresno
turnaround,
when the woman
I lived with
would be
camping
in the wilderness,
incommunicado.

I left Riverside
at 2am.
It was a six-hour drive,
but I arrived hopped on
on adrenaline and anticipation
because my paramour and I
promised each other
abstinence
to intensify our reunion.

I don't remember much,
only hazy, coital bliss.
Predictably,
we wore ourselves out
pretending to be newlyweds.

The weight didn't hit me
until I had to get back
on the freeway
for the six-hour return
that night.

My muscles were
soft and relaxed,
my mind, tranquilized,
as I sped along
Interstate 5,
into the winding
mountainous
Grapevine,
where signs of life
and freeway lights
were scarce.

In this darkness
I relived this day,
and the gentle rumble
of the highway
quietly fed
my post-orgasmic
narcosis,

maybe
everything
would be ok...

ZZZHMP!

my muscles spasmed
and a hot surge
of fear
shot through me.

Catching my breath,
my self,
I realize I almost fell asleep
at 75 MPH
on a darkened highway
200 miles away from
where I was supposed
to be.

As soon as I could,
I pulled off and
burned my mouth on
a cup of gas station coffee-
as both a stimulant
and a punishment.

I drove the remaining miles
wide awake,
wondering how soon
it would be
before I made
my next
turnaround.

[Written for #OpenLinkNight at www.dversepoets.com - where life and love are explored lyrically!]