I'm Waiting For The Man

I know why.

I know exactly the reason

That I don't let that sentimental relationship last,

I know why the poem is affair-related.

I know exactly why.

But it took me up until an hour ago

Sitting in the parking lot of Krogers,

Staring at the orange streetlamp

Making the blowing snow turn orange.

And through my splitting headache,

Emerged a truth.

(There is no such thing.)

I broke up the happy, beautiful sunshine couple

Into some ugly act of affair,

For I cannot have what I want,

So nobody else can, either.

Or at least, that it what I was thinking.

The sleeping figure bathed in morning sun, that

Played on his long-ish eyelashes,

And blonde hair,

Couldn't stay with the pretty, yet somehow timid woman,

In a conventional, 'pretty' relationship.

I shattered them into an ugly affair,

Where they may only see each other in stolen time

And stolen glances,

Accented by stolen passion.

And the act of sex is implied,

Because it's this ugly, ugly sort of relationship,

But I don't know.

Must that happen?

Can they not just sleep,

Entwined with each other in the same bed?

No, no.

Because, I do think that affairs are based on passion.

And passion is not something left simmering,

It boils.

And so the implied sex.

The subject is never broached.

It shouldn't be.

And I should not know the conventions of such a thing,

And really, I don't.

Nor should you,

Though you may be older.

It isn't something people find acceptable.

And I should like to know,

Actually, I want to know

What goes on.

What sort of things happen in affairs,

Is there a lot of fretting and worrying about be caught?

Or is it just lusty blind passion?

Or is there a deep shard of love lodged into the souls of each

Of the affair partakers?

I wonder.

But really, I shouldn't know.

And I don't.

Logistics, logistics...

But I do not let things end happily,

Because I do not have what I covet.

Nor should I.

Coveting thy neighbor's whatnot.

That's against the God-rules (aka 10 Commandments).

am currently breaking

A lot of coveting rules.

Oh snap.

Good thing I'm not breaking the law-law.

With the police and jazz.

Affair poems, and coveting.

This is... scandalous.

And on top of all this,

The sea has turned green

In my poems.

The winter has turned the sea green.

Covered in fog,

Filled with seaweed.

And we sail on our ship,

That stands still in the fog.