Sunday, September 19, 2010

Items to Itemize
for D.B.A.

how musical her laughter
her musical laughter

fill up, disrupt wonderfully
the quiet of the bank

I love it, I wonder though
about her baring herself
there or here emotionally

wonder about who might be able
to read her whole history
or our short history in laughter

in laughter emitting from her
like something etched or drawn
against an otherwise almost blank surface
the bank's air conditioned quiet

little, but laughter was loud
butt in blue jeans, not only I observing

others too, men always do
when they pass and look and marvel
and turn and look again and yearn

but she is, if not mine, mine almost
mine somewhat, mine somehow

her laughter's hers
to release, to free, to free her
laughter free, it frees and exposes her

phenomenal woman
what the fuck does she care

she is defiant, fiery,
wonderful and awful

often wonder what I'd leave in
what I'd leave out

but the sum of this, of that
these pluses, minuses
are for her to determine, decide

happy that she insists upon including me
even though, even if
I get to be included
with a lot more that is wonderful

some of it divine
along with junk food, bad food

things to make her belly ache
and to make her take up more
and more space in blue jeans
and in this mad world

she, laughing in it, laughing at it
and at me, knowing that
I love her unconditionally
and that I will go on doing so

she is a kid still, leaping about still
phenomenal still, phenomenal skill
filling the air with her up and about

her leaping up and settling down
only to start up- to start over again

way a water fountain rises and falls
spouts and at times, stops
like words from a mouth

oh she goes from laughter
from laughing to being serious in a flash
like night and day, alternating sporadically
day or night, night or day

unpredictable the way she'd be
the shoes she'd wear
what word or words she'd utter

my how I made her blush yesterday
annoyed her too, if not for long

she showed me better than ever before
how childish she is still able to be

blew air through her straw
into her vanilla Frappuccino
compared it with volcano erupting
laughing at how silly
she has license still to be
at 18 going on 19

writing poetry at times as riotous
as irreverent as Arthur Rimbaud
when he was around her same age

it turns out miraculously
that he was born in 1854,
100 years before I was born
and died in 1891,
100 years before she was born

D'Anthra is just a silly nut
with her "en garde" and "touché"
with chop sticks raised

pair between us
we shared one each
to foil fence in Starbucks

day before the store
with its view of the harbour
closed for good

someone out of the blue
to love you, to care
to be one with
to rescue you
from danger, from fear

I'll always be there
I’ll always be here
as long as life is

what was she thinking, you asked
perplexity covering your face
like an ugly mask
she, meaning Dawn

so what, I said,
do you wish to reduce
whatever exists between us
to nothing

we went through the door
therefore and up the stairs
of Starbucks as it were

you detaching yourself
you in a bad mood
my mood bad also
or not very much better

bumping roughly into people
waiting in line to be served
blinded by our
mutual unhappiness

don't know what
our friend, Dawn, was thinking

what she knows is
that I am thoroughly
madly in love with you

you know that she knows that
all the world almost knows that

what you were perplexed about
what you were asking was:

she knows you're in love with me
is she also thinking
that I'm in love with you

looking perplexed
suggesting that she has to be crazy
such a notion
is a million miles from possible
a million miles from true

are you just toying with me then
stringing me along
for all that my being in love with you
allows you free or for free or freely

not the gifts,
they can be purchased
those I did buy or have bought

but my time, whatever amount
you wanted or needed
along with free access to my intellect
whatever that is worth

measure we do have to go by
context in which we met

it was considered to be worth
$100 an hour, $300 an evening
in the context of COB

you get hundreds of hours free
and you are able to look perplexed
able to be perplexed
able to ask whatever could she,
meaning Dawn, have been thinking
or could have lead her to imagine
that there is anything between us
between you and me

I know though that what is
or has been left out of this debate
is that if you have or have had
hundreds of hours of my time
I have or have had
hundreds of hours of yours

and you have access to my intellect
in exchange for a similar depth
and breadth of access to yours

admit this or these though
and your perplexity again
is undermined

as continually and as deeply
as we are joined
amounts to mating
or amounts to what
or do we demean or insult us
to place any label or name upon it
upon us

your suggesting though
that all that we are, all that we share
amounts to what is less than an item
reduces my life
and how the bulk of it is spent
to meaningless

right thinking, I think,
should have lead you instead
to suggest that she insulted
what we
are and what we share
to suggest that we are an item
whatever an item is

© Obediah Michael Smith, 2010
Written between 9:15 a.m.
on Saturday, September 18
and Sunday, 6:11 a.m.,
September 19, 2010


Anonymous d.a. said...

this started on such a good note lol but what i admire is your ability to transform events into art i mean i try and i fail but u nail it easily. great job obi.

Monday, September 20, 2010 12:20:00 AM  
Blogger Obie Quiet said...

What you wrote Sunday morning - of these same events - however rough, was divine. What I do not understand still is whatever happened to the urgent response Louis and I were awaiting? Was that message never seen or was it seen and ignored? I awoke just a while ago - just after midnight, wanting to hear from you - wanting a word with you - feeling disconnected, out of touch with you. I checked g-mail and thought there was no word at all and felt neglected. It was wonderful therefore to find that you had read "Items to Itemize" and had responded - and what a response, as usual very poignant.

Monday, September 20, 2010 1:03:00 AM  

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