The Girl on the Canal
The most depressing poem I've ever written
Ancient people once worshiped the sun.
In 2013, the sun worships you.
Its rays pirouette across your body.
You flick up a perfect leg and turn.
I wish I was grass.
You are do an almost excellent job
of looking everywhere but my way,
but I noticed that last glance.
You lingered a second longer,
daring me to approach?
So why are you so unapproachable?
Suddenly, the four feet between us
has turned into a river of lava.
My personal pet Chimera.
Real enough to root me to my spot.
Your tattoos tease like a 3D poster.
If I stare long enough,
perhaps their meanings would be revealed.
Or perhaps,
If instead of making
this miserable excuse for a miserable excuse
would ask you
Perhaps you would tell me.
Or perhaps
you would tell me
to leave you be in all your radiant glory.
But would I ever ask you?
Not likely.
(2013)
