Wednesday, May 03, 2006

A file marked PERSONAL

Looking at my desk today and everyday, I know that I have to tame the chaos and get organized. Half glancing through my file drawer, I noticed a file in my husband's handwriting marked PERSONAL. Should I look? It is my desk and if it were that personal, then it should be in his desk. So I look.

Contents: Photos from when he went to USC, an old ticket, notes on Mills House Hotel bev naps, a thank you note, a letter and a poem that I wrote him in the Summer of 1992, a poem he wrote me soon thereafter, a poem for a previous someone that he even dated 2/14/90 and an undated one that I'm sure was also before my time.

I think I'll share:

This first one is the one dated 2/14/90. It also has a drawing with a heart. The heart has arms and legs running as an arrow darts towards it.


Red Rose Meets Cactus Flower

Where a rose is a lonesome place
Passion red and fading grace
Where cactus flowers
Pleasure comes
Year from day, hour on hours
Where roses lie with cactus flowers
There is beauty in a spreading space
Freedom comes to those wait – but
Bondage tides the waves of fate
Red roses and the cactus flower
Year from day, hour on hour

__________________________________________

Joe's Bar & Grill

(Just this side of the rise, in the valley below the hill)

You set’em up Joe and I’ll knock’em down
I kind of like this bar, it’s the best I’ve found
I’ll just stay here, get numb, be wiser.
I love to get numb. I hate being wiser.

You set’em up Joe and I’ll knock’em down
This bar is perfect to hide a poor clown
Who’s just had his guts kicked in – excuse me
Joe could you make that - double gin

When did it happen? Did I already know?
Could I have predicted like rain or like snow.
Well it’s rainin now and I feel the wind blow.
Who knows why the cold wind blows.

You set’em up Joe and I’ll knock’em down
I’d better take off right after this round.
The rain’s welling up in my throat
In my eyes there’s a drop for each of her lies.

It’s time to go home and lock the door
I’ll have a new bottle, I’ll drink a little more.
I’ll think about shelter from this storm of pain.
I need some peace, not another refrain
Refrain, that’s what I’ll have if I keep playing this game.

______________________________________________

In the Summer of '92, Papa Bear and I were at Amos's in Charlotte. With a bluesy jazz backdrop, dim lighting and a few cocktails....he turned to me and said "Tell me you love me." This was my reply. I think it captures my response to this question.

"Tell me you love me"

A chilling voice echoes – echoes
Resonating through the chambers of my reason
Sensations of desire take form
As the vibrations move through my body
The voice cradles my heart and stirs my soul

Awake –
am I awake?
In a dream – It feels like a dream
Your hand slides down my back
My body quivers –
I love feeling your touch
I slowly open my eyes – oh, you are so beautiful
Just to lose them in yours

“I love you” –
how I do love you

_________________________________________________

And finally, a poem written for me. I pressed him into this as he had written so many poems for past loves...wasn't I good enough for a poem?

The Joy to Be With You I See

(A Poem for Lisa)

Cascading down
Down hills of time of sand and ocean
Down moonlight and sunlight and freedom
Over white clouds on deep blue
Over you
Over me
The joy to be
With you I see
Cascading down

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