de verdad
en su sueno:
the room
temperature
at 74 degrees
fahrenheit;
me, clad in
checkered shirt,
blue jeans
from you,
and my new
athletic shoes;
smoked oysters,
crackers,
pan-fried
papas y cebollas,
and bottles
of vinho verde,
and you, with
your ensalada
de bacalao,
and your bbq
ribs;
and martinis
for after,
amid kisses
and
laughter:
this is all,
todo el mundo,
that I am after:
not just a love,
cast aside,
as a moment
gone hasty,
but a bond,
a tie, that will
last very nicely
with You
and I, exchanging
knowing glances,
while knowing
that enduring
is just one of life's
chances, made
good;
and still,
spiriting the night
away,
we give sway
to the final way,
the way that all loves
end in this day,
completely abject,
and in total disarray,
limbs akimbo,
hearts aflutter,
in a twisted sea
of tangled covers;

and in these moments,
everything that we know,
or pretend to know,
is let loose in dreams.

March 4, 2010, for the Wifey. See you on the 6th, mi amor.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.