Thursday, August 19, 2010

Jelly & Gin
& Coconut Water
for D.B.A. & A.J.P.

when you're good to me
you're very good to me

you'd give it to me until
I am unable to take any more

until the smell and taste of you
are coming through my nose and through my pores

until I am sputtering, spitting you up
coughing you up, choking on what, on who

I love better than anybody in this whole world
wasting what is Dee, is thee most precious drink
on planet earth

God, if and when your aunt finds out
what is going on between us
how deep it is- how deep it goes
what will she say- who will she tell

will she approve of us- support us
one of our supporters or not

I was, the other day, tempted to confess
share my poems of you with her

point her to them, to my blog
where there are poems upon poems
of you, with pictures of you

she has been very good to me, you see
what I wonder is if she is wondering
why I am- why I've been as good to her
as I have been- if I have been

why I came to see her off
helped her with her luggage like I did
when I am usually lazy lazy

why I was up and out- up and about
at half-past-4

you at that hour in dreamland
didn't even know that
I had accompanied
the driver of the cab

didn't even know that I was
just outside your door
with your aunt's bags
to strain me- to strain with

your mother, God bless her
referring to me as a thin man

which I further converted,
commuted to another sentence

reduced me to the tin man
word play which produced
two balls full- bows full- tin tubs full
of belly laughter

oh how happy with words
with each other
you and I are sometimes

as well as I can complain
how right down to my little toe
satisfied sometimes, like right now

like this very morning
puppy nearby, barking
at 6:11 in the morning

you up yet or you still snoring
dreaming, beauty-napping, cat-napping

while I'm in dog heaven
me and this page and this poem
and this pen in hand
and this pen of mine

your aunt's Pennerman, isn't she
or is that her pen name
her nom de plume
her nom de guerre

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
6:16 a.m. 19.08.10


Anonymous d.a. said...

this poem is flawless Obi it is so perfectly crafted. I am suspicious. Is it like auto-tuned music? Some of the greatest musicians have used auto tune. How do you cheat with poetry and is it the same as cheating on poetry?

Thursday, August 19, 2010 6:12:00 PM  

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