Saturday, January 1, 2011

A Small Male Fallow Deer

how is it,
that someone,
who we hardly know,
can rip our heart,
in two?
and, how, then,
should a lover, long,
be able to,
or want...
i stood beside the man,
i call, my ultra lith,
past the time of sleeping,
his, where he travels ragged miles,
and, i, just seem to travel...
in rolling hills of emerald,
stone fences,
too far away to care about,
or hinder,
where we'd go,
in technicolor.
and, there are no weeping camels.
a male, and fallow deer,
raised it's tender head,
with velvet antlers,
and looked at us, in silence.
we're never silent,
unless, there's something,
dreadful wrong.
and, we're never really peaceful.
only in my magnavox of irish dreams.

he wondered, laughing,
looking devilish,
wouldn't it be funny,
if it was just a simple farm boy,
who figured it all out,
in the end?

and, later, pointed,
with one finger,
and asked,
is that the deer,
that we saw,
inside your dream?
how is it,
i ask,
looking deviled,

how is it,
that as a stranger,
and lover,
both, at once,
can you rip my heart,
and, yet,
read my dreams?


i am listening, to the man, in the paper hat...

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