Thursday, February 4, 2010

Ape Dance



We danced until the moonlight became sunlight
and we fell back on each other,
into our dreams that would never come true,
supported by our own lies of never knowing real love.

We danced like dancers do,
never caring,
never thinking,
always in step.

We said not a word
but knew every sound,
we communicated with eyelashes
and crooked teeth.

We made memories,
dancing.

Like real people,
who had real lives,
real concerns,
and real obstacles,
with real morals.

Though neither of us were here, nor there.

We had nothing but that night.
That everlasting night.
of dancing and dreaming
and actually believing we had found true love.

I awoke
with your hand on my bareback,
my hair tousled,
and the taste of morning in my mouth.

But,
I didn't know your name.
I couldn't remember the color of your eyes
or the style of the shirt you wore
to cover that scar down the middle of your chest
that I pay closer attention to now
then I will ever
in
my
entire
life.

Perhaps that is where
they took your heart and replaced it with that of an ape
or opened you to count your ribs.
Could it be that you have iron lungs?
Though not an iron heart
because
as you turned your head to face me,
and you saw my eyes on your chest
rhythmically rising and falling with your breath,
you took my hand
and kissed it.

You smiled,
the way you always seem to do
before you ask me to leave,
and you,
without actually saying a word,
told me about our life together.

Though you left out the part
where you broke my heart
and left me for the dogs.

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