Alternative Venus
Try to say one thing that comes out
another: your wages garnished for
a wry gin. Take a word, toss it
around, feeling its delicate texture
on your tongue. You’ve got sweaty
palms. What are your problems in
the order of their priority? The trio
of deer dining on the lush, pre-dawn
loam? Running noplace while the
Bay Bridge brightens and the day
dissolves into the darkening waters
next to a buddy from way back,
never hanky-panky but always
flirting? Don’t let go the sound of
his voice. Is your heart swollen
or creepy? Here’s a regifted day:
driving cross-country; a blurred,
gorgeous film that lingers on the
saguaros until they’ve all but
bled out into the toiling dusk.
Nevertheless. You have to
keep driving, your destination
throbs with an overwhelming
potency. You can all but taste
it, feel its delicate texture....
