- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Mark, in 1995
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That long, dark hair
and those dark, dark eyes
were just two things,
superficial, attractive to me.
What went deeper?
I don't know.
I think of things
I say that were his:
mannerisms, phrases, expressions
I still make, unintentionally.
Unattainable,
his eighteen hours
all in worship
to circuitry, coding, decifering,
staring at the monitor
out of a very long habit.
Not really wanted, though not unwanted,
never was sure what I waited for.
All my wanting, a waste,
all my desire, laughable -
but worse,
my mind collapsed that year
and he witnessed it.
And once,
I bit him on the knee,
frustrated with him,
frustrated with me,
and I never apologized.
When I'm not careful
about what I dream,
I relive the good bits,
and forget the rest.
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