Miles Dissolve, and Oceans
 
‘See me plunk in front of my monitor?  See
you! You’re in Africa/Australia/Toronto/
Korea/Oahu.  Venice? Pa-ree?   Rome-Rio-
Heidelberg-Brussels-Great Britain, OneHorse,
USA?  Chi’, Seattle, N’Awlins, the Apple!  
No end to the hearts and minds on the ‘Net!
Put your specs on, that’s it.  Don’t need ‘em?
Lucky sod.  Forget all that and click to me,
while I click to you.  Watch our world grow
even more.  Something about quietly sitting
in the glow of a screen that reflects feelings
cannot be said.  Makes us believe – no, know --
we can join souls.  Not about sex, is it?
About homing in on who we are.  Where we
are coming from, what we give, what we try.
What makes us happy and how much we hurt,
and why.  Whether we are working to create
better selves from the debris Life’s bolts
leave, even though we sometimes hunker
down and pad our shells with wet sand.
Keys fly when we let ourselves show-me-
show-you.  Bodies not required!  Meeting
unnecessary, no need to “press the flesh.”
Where romance is our object, helps more
than hurts to look deep.  Not be distracted
by cut, color, style. Tics, pecadilloes, shyness,
or showmanship. Legs straight?  Bowed?
Rendered inert or gone?  Some of us point
to type, some rely on other devices.  Physical
scars?  All got some inside.  Dimples?
Accidents of birth.  Tattoos?  Not original
equipment.  Height important in basketball.
Got our our will-o’-the-wisps, our fireplugs.
Little people, Goliaths, rolypoles.  Ah-nold
six-pack and pecs, or along the lines of Pooh.  
Marks on a wall, ho-hum.   Endomorph,
ectomorph, who remembers all the morphs?  
Peel  away the crust and show us the center.
Let us feel if it is warm.   Smell the yeast, see
if it is soft to the touch, but not too.  Not being
picky, just connecting.  Your feet, will they
be “stickin’ up out’ the casket?” ala Eubie
Blake’s rollicking tune?  So be!  As for hair:
lank, sprayed, rug, plugs, curls, spikes, plaits,
braids, comb-over, no sweat.  Lips and breasts
fatten or shrink.  Penises.  Brows tweeze, pencil,
tat, shave.  Point. What gets us to the core?
Lenses gloss or magnify.   Light tends to shift.
But when we write, the crust falls away.
Then we know.

 

(c) Phyllis Jean Green,  September, 2007


 
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