My memories of you go by
like rows of butterflies on crutches.
We were the blind desperately unbuttoning the blind,
lost in the blur of the forbidden.
Until your voice, like the shock of cold chicken,
ripped my heart out
and beat it like a seal pup,
into your front porch.
Suddenly, my life was invaded
by a drunken synchronized-swim team of emotions...
As the book of my soul began to fill with coffee rings.
Now I know that my life is a only metaphor,
for something infinitely worse -
But your cruelty can never keep its freshness.
One day, your beauty too, will be gone
like lost socks from a dryer.
© Elas Giordano 1995