And they said
honesty. They
said write through
the pain and the
ecstasy. Oh, there
are so many tales
yet to be told so
we can’t grow old,
no, we won’t grow
old. And so I give you
Lipstick and Lunar, who
were lovers in the war.
She fought for the Day
light, he fought for the
Dark Night. Sometime
after that, when the world
was settled down, at the quiet
end of their long cherry-floored
flat these two would lounge all
morning. Coffee And Ray of Sun,
that is, before they came undone.
They lived in an times of hidden
lovers curling heads around corners
just to get glimpses of like-minded
eyes. And, yes, there are others,
there are so many lovers whose
stories never saw the light of day
(but Coffee and Ray, they’d sit at
the end of the flat and stare up at
the sky and, intermittently, into
each other’s eyes, back and forth
it went like this until around about
afternoon). I once knew a love so
intergalactic, well, this is earth,
though, and what an excellent
planet. These two, one cool
and blue and wet and the other
so tall and built of stone, of tree,
of firmament. The two had known
each other for more generations
than either could count, they’d
found each other by meeting
and never unmet. One could
look out over the other’s great
expanse. The other would coax
and would tickle the great looker’s
sensitive, craggy base. You can
find them still, as in love now as
ever, if you’ve a map to where
Boundary Waters meets Ol’
Mountain Peak. Then there’s
the tale of the long-distance
lovers, Ol’ Peak’s cousin, Mister
Mountain Peak, who rises most
high in the Adirondacks and
his lonely companion who juts
so sheerly, so gorgeously, so
austerely, way out on the
western edge of the Rockies.
If you’ve ever heard one holler
out to the other, you’ve heard
a most hollow and craven tone
that would jelly most all of your
solidest bones. Then, my dears,
the lovely pastel ladies, Coral
and Bramble, who keep each
other company day in and
day out, only, you won’t
find one embracing the
other. No, their con
nection occurs with
nary a collision,
no sweet em
brace, but
neither
will tell you
that this fact
is tragic. “It’s
just a way
to live,”
will say
Coral. “The
only way we’ll
ever know,” is
always Bramble’s
retort to that.
