Indian Rain

 

The day came upon us like Indian rain,

And with it, our fruits of labor grew,

Seeds that we’d been planting for months now,

All twenty-six of us, savages,

Nestled halfway between the Florida sun

And the storm steadily brewing in the distance.

 

When we danced, we sounded like a thunderclap,

Our feet ferociously pounding upon the pavement.

The beads on the hems of our T-shirts

Swung like pendulums,

And our painted faces gleamed with sweat.

The sound of the beating drum,

Thump thump, thump thump,

Woven together with the lonesome melody of a flute—

That was our heartbeat, that was the sound of the spirits

Watching us as we twirled in the midst of crystal droplets.

 

I still remember his clammy hand in mine,

The broken savage with the big brown eyes—

Two stars about to blink away before the dawn—

He and I.

I slipped off my feather earrings and

Stepped into the storm.

Thump thump, thump thump.

My beating heart willing me to look back.

But I never did, I never did.

 

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Devotion

 

It’s funny how faulty faultlessness is

Compared to your eyes under these

Fluorescent ceiling lights.

I don’t know the color of those eyes,

Even though I’ve stared at your pictures

For hours on end—pixelated masterpieces

That put the work of Da Vinci to shame.

 

For there is no muse more worthy than you,

But perhaps it is all in vain

Since when I paint you into my memory.

I get so breathless I forget the details,

And I forget where I started, and where I should end,

And my train of thought screeches in its tracks—

Crash—what color are your eyes?

 

The half-light is streaming in through the window;

It was sunny today—it wasn’t supposed to be,

But it was.

Now the sun is gone—

Welcome to the city of gloom,

Where I never have seen more light,

Especially radiating from you.

 

I just hope you remember the girl

With the half-pretty face

And the smile half as bright as yours,

For you are wholly perfection—

Holy perfection—

The only being I could ever truly worship,

But you never look down when I kiss your feet.

 

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Fallen Stars

 

Fallen stars are all we are,

Alighting with a pitch black silence

Into this void we call a city—

A city filled with celestial things,

Things from the heavens,

Fallen stars gone astray—

They have fallen into hell.

Do they know? Do we know?

All we are is falling,

Falling with a heavenly grace

Into this extravagant underworld.

 

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Observer

 

From here, I can see the world.

The ocean blues of the sky and the sky blues of the ocean,

The milky dawn and the purple twilight acting as bookends

For the expanse of time in which the sun’s rays shine.

And then the stars—oh how the stars blink into existence

As the moon rises gracefully into its own perch—

But not as splendid a perch as mine.

From here, I watch the people.

They act as if they are alone, not watched by even God,

And it is endearing to see them—

To see them dancing when the rain drizzles,

The light of the street lamps making halos around them.

To hear them singing under their breath, whistling, humming,

Throwing their head back as they laugh.

I watch them as they fall in love and fall in despair

And hug their arms around them when it’s cold,

And in the heat, their faces turn shiny—they feel it all.

I feel it all.

But they don’t even think to look up.

I watch them in silence, always watching

From this magnificent, isolated perch I found.

 

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Upside-Down

There is someone standing on the corner of

Upside-Down and

Right-Side-Up.

He is silhouetted against the backdrop of Night;

He is silhouetted by the light of Day.

He is lost to those who know him,

He has been found by those who don’t.

He is happy and sad

And pleased and mad and

Every feeling, every color in between.

His life is red and blue,

Wine and water

Spilled onto the floor

And seeping into the carpet.

Lights turned on again and off again,

Indecisive and certain of his purpose.

Wait—

What purpose?

Would he,

Could he,

Should he,

Fit into the circle when he is a square?

The beginning has wound to an end;

The end is only beginning.

Waiting for nothing;

Waiting for absolutely

Without a doubt

Possibly

Perhaps

Everything.

At the corner of Right-Side-Up

And Upside-Down.

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Stars

 

The stars in your eyes—

Ne’er could such a humble sight

Be any more grand.

 

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How

How could I be happy with someone who isn’t you?

How could I be happy when you’re not there to be happy too?

How could I want someone else now that we have met?

How could I go about using someone else to help me forget?

How could I be satisfied with stars now that I’ve seen the sun?

How could I want to reach the end when it’s only just begun?

How could I let you slip away when I’ve wanted you for years?

How could I ponder it all without being struck by tears?

How could I let my fate be so recklessly told?

How could I settle for steel after feasting my eyes upon gold?

How could I watch one of those fools try to steal my heart?

How could I let my dreams of you be suddenly torn apart?

How could I turn the page when I’m still stuck on your word?

How could I forget your voice—the prettiest thing I’ve heard?

How could I let myself be weak when I’ve sworn to be tough?

How could I admit that of you I haven’t had enough?

How could I submit to their smiles when they do not compare?

How could I let my eyes drift closed when I see you everywhere?

In all these questions, one word to me stands out—

If I can’t claim your love as mine, then “how?”

 

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Four Days

I saw you on a Tuesday

Amidst a sea of bodies, a plethora of faces—

Faces lit up with liveliness yet holding no light for me—

An overcast sky, but the sun shone suddenly

When I saw you on a Tuesday.

 

Forget it, I thought,

But forgetting that face is like forgetting the stars—

Such an impossible and foolish feat;

On pitch black nights I will need the memory

Of when I saw you on a Tuesday.

 

I met you on a Wednesday

At a table full of people who made me feel alone;

I felt your approach intensely before you came

Like a railroad feeling a coming train—

You shook me when we met on a Wednesday.

 

A handful of exchanged words,

An apprehension that would sear at the touch—

I watched and was caught when I let my eyes roam,

And never before did I feel more alone

Than when I met you on a Wednesday.

 

The past flashed before my eyes

And left me as stranded as the present,

Which was a joy so great it felt like a void of sorrow;

My heart told me, “You’ll regret this tomorrow,”

But I already regretted meeting you on a Wednesday.

 

I missed you on a Thursday,

Drowning in the water I let slip through my fingers

When all I wanted was a drink—I watch it in my mind,

A silent film unfolding in black-and-white—

I missed my chance—and you on a Thursday.

 

Despair was deferred only by the hope

Of basking again in your Tuesday-light

And redeeming myself by reliving that Wednesday meet;

I will not let that Thursday repeat—

There was a glimmer of hope for a Friday.

 

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Anguish

 

My days—my precious days!—where do they go

 

When I’m immersed in dreams of you and I?

 

My time—my treasured time!—how it does fly!

 

This fantasy of mine is all I know,

 

For when I’m living life I am in woe,

 

And my foe, Anguish, is whom I defy

 

With these dreams in which there is no goodbye

 

And no reason to ever say hello.

 

My love has not been false to any end;

 

Reality appears to have no heart—

 

If anything it wants for us to part,

 

For it does not show sympathy to truth.

 

It seems as though Anguish is its best friend:

 

The adversary of the love-struck youth.

 

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Once-Lost Hopes

 

The brightness of the room had faded—that, or just my eyes were jaded—

Jaded like how I feel when my mind flips back to you,

And it does that quite often; I admit my heart does soften

After I have firstly hardened—every time, as though on cue.

 

I was rather conflicted for it wasn’t as predicted:

I had thought that maybe you’d appear and want to stay around.

I started to consider leaving as soon as I stopped believing

That both you and my hopelessly lost hopes could be found.

 

Making for the door, I swear—but then I saw you standing there

In the threshold with my lost hopes held out in your hand.

I stifled back a relieved sigh and made sure not to catch your eye—

Kicking myself for not being confident, as planned.

 

An hour uneventful passed; I struggled to make seconds last

But all for naught—you never so much as glanced in my way.

My heavy heart was sinking, and down with it went my thinking

That perhaps this wait for your love would conclude itself today.

 

I risked a peek in your direction, for I longed to see perfection;

You were packing up your things to go, I realized.

I mustered up my bravery, and before I could choose to flee,

I’d already looked into your forget-me-not blue eyes.

 

Somehow I managed talking instead of me merely gawking,

Yet such were my nerves that I can’t bring to mind what I did speak.

Nonetheless your smile made everything worth the while,

And I swear I saw a tiny dimple indent your left cheek.

 

Ironically, I wished you’d leave, for right then, I could barely breathe;

You took your things and went your way without hesitancy.

But your smile had shone so bright that I knew I’d said something right,

And I was glad to have my once-lost hopes returned to me.

 

Now when I’m reminiscing I see that romance was missing,

But it’s clear that you and I both witnessed sparks go off that day.

We can be secret sweethearts and pray silently to the stars

That someday one of us will have the courage to change our fate.

 

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