the sound of your voice
that hint of an accent charms
yet how can I listen
and not have my heart crack
knowing you whisper to another
in the night
other writing
a question unable to ask: for M
if I came for you
would you open willingly
or close completely
to my subtle advances
leaving me out in the rain
where I am: Michael’s lament
still very much alone
haunted by his memories
what it could have been
what it was, images of
what probably lies ahead
most of the time: Beppe’s modus operandi
I walk a straight line
I stay on the page
I see what’s coming from behind
know the lay of the land
the way the cookie crumbles
but then again
there are those times
I get blindsided by my own self
and I’m left twisting
in the proverbial wind
a fool is a fool is a fool
who thinks he’s too smart
to be stupid
a haiku: on invitations to tea
insincerity
is like a slap in the face
one’s cheek burns for weeks
adrift: for M
floating, floating
there is no end to this
the waning candle
the cat under the table
the whiskey in the glass
the book unfinished by the bed
another night in exile
waiting for the dawn
a haiku: a stain on the heart
nothing sadder than
kindness taken for granted
a stain on the heart
the days, the nights
blend together
one into the other
and sleep
my foreign cousin
eludes me
instead the past creeps in
obliterating what should be thoughts
of a future
and regret eats chucks of my heart
leaving crumbs not worth sharing
in a world
bereft of hope
standing on a foreign shore
watching ships sail the sea
the taste of whiskey
lingering on my tongue
the definition of being special: for RK
this is not so easy to define
a quality like this
almost too ephemeral as to be invisible
except our senses do feel it
our brains register it
there is magic in the air
and our eyes
so accustomed to what is ordinary
are momentarily nonplussed
what could it be
we wonder
that holds us captive so
and someone like you
flutters by on wings
apparently
like an angel
and we know
finally
though we may not understand
what special means
just who in the physical universe
defines that foreign word
where I stand
as I stand poised on the edge of heartbreak
your name on the tip of my tongue
there’s no such thing as redemption
and nothing left of pride
Leonard Durso 