What do you think of when you think of fluorescent blue?
What a beautiful night
the stars are out
like tiny pinprick holes in the sky
illuminating our soft gray subtle shadows
as we chat about life and random fluff
and the moon shines through your dress
making it
transparent
Back to my car
a night full of passion.
Come the morning: I stop and reflect.
What could my life have been?
If I had missed all this,
this artifice and sin?
For you are only silicone,
your dress a splotchy sheet
The stars are a cheap plastic disco ball
I bought it from goodwill for 97¢.
My car's no more than a fluorescent-stained couch.
Alas, alas for me
I must do better—yes, I will!
(I steel my resolve)
(I know what I must do)
(my heart, it pains me so!
For you have been so good to me, and thus I will repay you?)
I did it, threw you in the trash;
I'll hire a human whore tomorrow
This piece is ponderous. Taken at face value, as with a great deal of free form poetry, it seems more experimental than anything else, which is not a bad thing. We experiment every single time we write. If we didn't, we'd be constantly writing the same words in the same way day in, day out until we died. A fruitful existence this does not beget.
Poetry of course is not meant to be taken at face value. Most art isn't, to be sure, but poetry is a class unto itself. This makes it doubly difficult, especially for those not well-versed in its traditions, to appreciate a piece. What you've created here is a perfect example of this; to the layman it would seem meandering and incoherent, with a twist tacked on only to justify its topic.
If one can understand what poetry is meant to do, however, this piece sings electric. It's provocative, gross, and would undoubtedly get the people going given the right audience. An exploration of personal sexuality proffered here as an eclectic foursome that appropriately juxtaposes the heady fugue of horniness with the solemn regret coming after.
This isn't a piece for everyone, and it was never meant to be. Sexuality is a difficult topic for many, rife though poetry is with it, and because of this I find it admirable (however silly that might sound, given the context here) when people share that part of themselves with the world. It reminds me, a discolored speck in a sea of midwestern orthodoxy, that there are people who think and feel and love like me even if I never see it, and that's a feeling that grows harder to find every day.
Thanks for sharing!
E - Quartet to Foursome, because sex.