she inhaled perfumed opium smoke

took it deep into her lungs

soft threads lazed in her mouth

and slipped out between her lips

thin simmering whorls

delicate fingerprints on silver air

                                                                 they blushed his cheeks and throat

caressed the back of his neck

drew his mouth to her

he brushed his lips to hers

                                            breathlessly

the tips of their tongues  aching

touched

his exhale warmly painted her face

then he inhaled shallowly

as she exhaled between her pursed lips

a velvet furrow

gently blowing blue smoke

between his parted lips

the scent  petals of flowers

slipped happily into his lungs

filling them

inhaling through her nose

he felt currents slip

caress his cheeks

he heard them whisper in his ears

her eyes were bright and moist

exhaling he averted his breath

it washed her elegant throat and collarbones

played at her cleavage

her mouth  beckoned his

begged a kiss

a deep   kiss

the perfume mingled in their shared mouths

and wound them up

                                 terribly gentle

                                                        heartbreakingly gentle

touches

they hadnt felt

since babes

1541,  Tuesday,  20  8. 13

School of Hard Knocks

All the things that could have gone wrong 

went wrong

All the things he thought hed surely do                                                                                               

he didnt

All the angst he couldnt imagine existed                                                                                           

did

All the lefts he took                                                                                                                         should have gone right

And when he went right                                                                                                   

he should have gone left

He should have braked                                                                                                                 

rather than gone on

And when he sped away                                                                                      

he should have stopped                                                                                       

as if coldcocked

all too familiar

a broken record                                                                                                                 

spinning around and around and around and                                            

tossing everything from its face that wasnt nailed down

                                                                                             and yet he remained unbroken unbridled                                                                                                             

confident it was only a matter of time before things came to their senses and finally 

caught up with him to play in sync

he didnt do things the hard way 

he did them their hardest way 

if it wasnt strenuous  it wasnt worth doing

he was from the School of Hard Knocks                               

the foundry where he was smelted  poured  and tempered                                             

a dense cruddy ingot comfortably going through things rather than around them . . .

                                             . . . rather than around them   -   THERE!   -   in a nutshell!  -    

in the folded nutmeat cloistered in the hard nut of his skull                                                                                           

                                                                    he was comfortable going through things   

rather than around them                                                                                                  

willfully preferring confrontation to the strategy  perhaps artfully  of turning his cheek

he preferred Didions hardscrabble:

“A place belongs forever to whomever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively”

odd                                                                                                                               

some obsessions

1211,  Thursday,  10  4. 14   

truth

--  I already got the mail

--  I figured you had    he had already doublechecked it unknown to her  

Why did he do that

Why did he deceive her what was the point of lying

What  ever  is the point of lying

What was that edge one thought they gained by lying

Because                                                                                                                                          

when a lie is discovered

and its when not if       eventually peering out of some innocuous remark

a gilded hair in the ointment lipstick on a cigarette butt or dark coffee cup crystal glass

then every word ever uttered                                                                                                          

is suspicious

Truth was                                                                                                                         

his vigor and power wasnt in words or argument                                                            

not psychology

it lived in his physicality                                                                                                    

his brawn deceptively hidden under conservative clothing and manners

on the very rare occasion he plucked a fib   he wondered how it was she didnt hear its bottlerockets wick hiss smell burning sulfur or it zip whisk away up into the tree 

canopy and burp

                                    catch that firefly on its erratic   surly   rudderless flight

Truth was                                                                                                                           

he didnt have the capacity or patience to braid lie upon lie twisting it into something that could withstand a shift in weight or desultory scrutiny  

Truth was                                                                                                                          

the truth

1524,  Saturday,  12  4. 14