Tuesday, June 21, 2005


Ian asked, and so did Buddha in a general way, so here we go. What relaxes me? Here are a few:

long, slow lovemaking, legs every which way,
sweat and discarded pillows on a playful night;
bodies lost to the ancient rhythm

a cigarette in solitude or in company
dizzying in the morning, like electrifying news;
a farewell exhalation before sleeping

words read or written down, on pages or notebook monitor,
caressing my imagination, my appetite, my secret self;
my mental erection, stroked and sated

Magic cards, red-black-green-white-blue,
cardboard personas of wonder and deceit, shuffled into decks;
my wife, across the table, rallying her armies

a walk at midnight, identity lost in a bar,
being no one in particular, glass in hand;
staring zenlike at unspoken stories around me

iron fingers digging into my back, hard and implacable,
a duet: Zozo the Punisher's grunts and my expelled breath;
the pleasurable ordeal of a massage

endless conversations with intelligent friends,
answering questions that have no answers;
marginalia and agenda are vital to life

watching my daughter, asleep in half-darkness,
eyes closed and dreaming of princesses in dresses;
tomorrow, we'll be dancing


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