untangling

Two strands are entwined in your helical form, holding primordial epressions of encoded bonds. A ladder of innate knowledge, vast and hidden, wording answers to questions unknown. Relaying the mystery of life, a puzzle for brilliant minds. And yet, your mysteries are not so seamless. Your strands can be untangled. Those ancient phrases unlocked and unstrung. That coiled perfection unraveled. Life can come undone.

My streets have been empty of you for years. I no longer search for you in every face that passes by, nor try to catch a glimpse of you in these crowds. I've stopped looking for you around each corner I turn. I have learned to forget you. But I am lying. Here I am looking over my shoulder, expecting you to be standing at this same crosswalk searching for me.

O, Fluid Mechanics! Ye be the death of me! How I have ignored you and longed to be rid of you, but it was not to be. O how severely I have been wronged! Twice have I tried to wash my hands of you, but the professor was optimistic. "You're doing okay.  Not good, but not too bad." And so I decided to risk it. In the end, it has me totally fucked. Helpless, I can do naught but weep. For alas, I have become firmly tucked inside a hole that's just too deep. There is a slim chance of a passing grade as I hope for a C.  Balls, if only a B! O for an A what I wouldn't trade! Fluid Mechanics, ye be the death of me!

I would wander the earth beneath my feet deep into the land's geography, where there are paths that turn as easily as wind, and wonders and treasures to seek. There are roads ahead, and I cannot pretend to know where I will go. It all depends on where it diverges along the trail and when. I will not decide which to take until then. The shifting sands will bring my pleas to the stars that shine above to guide me to some forgotten spring, where the sweet water have long ago soothed the weary. When I return from my travels, I am content to lie in bed, and explore the curves and bends of your body. Your eyes are like the stars to se

I want to be the god who breathed life into you, whose form you stole. I want to be the mother who kept you secret till you ripped through the womb spilling her blood. Make me your lover and I will burn beneath your body each night. Let me be the earth that mingles with your ashes. I want to be the poet to paint you with words.

I find you amidst dust and alabaster where you stand in smooth, marble pride. Your skin is stiff and plastered against all my caresses. You hide the rhythm of the stone in your chest but my straining ear heard its beat while my own lilting heart knew unrest. The divine Art of Venus I will not entreat, for it was not my hands that carved your body. Still, like Pygmalion playing lover to his ivory girl, I am starved for flesh to yield to my fingers, praying that my own art, not divine or of stone, can still make your heart revealed to me. Let it be my own art alone that will make such cold marble yield.

In French class, we never learned our verbs or tenses.  We ignored l'imparfait tout le temps and never concerned ourselves with comprendre le francais. For tests, we'd have cheating orgies and confuse ourselves with dans and en, avoir and etre. We'd all turn to Dan when we had to use venir and sembler, or conjugate promettre. Of course, I only wanted to be alone with Dan and practice verbs like embrasser and desirer. Je t'aime just sounds much better than I love you.  French is my subject prefere.

We meet in this city unerased by time. My eyes do not know your face anymore, but the memories of you are still draped across my skin. Long ago I've breathed the warmth of you and felt the weight of you in my bones. I've never brushed off the dust of this place where you left me. Foreign cities I have known since then. My feet have touched frozen sidewalks and waltzed to street fiddlers' melodic sorrows. I've drank wine by fountains and ruins while telling strangers my story. I laughed away the tragedies of past heartbreaks. I knew then that I still ached for you. I saw a fat man with no neck belt arias from a balcony where o