written on your skin

I have a story, a novel that I write

every day and it goes like

A woman is in love with a man only

he does not seem to catch on

She tries to get his attention

and he falls in love with her

best friend or baseball

I haven't decided yet

Anyway she gives up when

aliens come to earth!

It is on CNN and YouTube

One of them falls in love with

the woman or baseball

Hijinks ensue! Followed by

passionate lovemaking

of the cross-species variety

a tentacle here, an eyestalk there

until everyone comes, everyone's overjoyed

Apocalypse averted, God returns

A veritable Eden of gold apples

Lightning no longer frightens small

animals and children, and the dead

rise in glorious soft white bodies

luminescent effusions of pure emotion

reuniting all that was lost with all that was won

Yes and the Cubs win the World Series

Only when I sit down to write

Magnum Opus as the book's titled

I think of you

the way laughter erupts from you

and all I can think is

How can I write what is not

the heart of a man

throbbing for a woman

who does not seem to catch on?

All the poems in our world

written on your skin

or flickering inside my skull

are worth more than moments

dulled by separation anxiety

Which reminds me

to coat the naked story

by looping back each gratuitous detail

over a landscape of smeared colors

brought to reality through a deceived eye

panels of past blurs and blobs

matching patterns of present impressions

verisimilitude layered onto prose

like fondant icing a wedding cake

The boy and girl waiting for their mom and dad

at the bus stop long past when their bus is due

standing in the short cut grass

the girl throwing yellow pollen balls and foxtails

the boy tugging her violently by her quilted pink coat

What if their parents never arrive?

All the poems I say are worth sunshine

rivers, canyons, beaches, deserts

snow, Sierras, caverns, forests

moonlight, city light, stars, meteors

flying saucers, coffee cups, cream

French press, your clothes draped

on the back of the chair

as I kiss the nape of your neck

Buy my book by joining me

I want you in my arms

You've already filled the pages

There is no other poem but this