subtext

Wisps

like smoke from a cigarette tip

                        his hand on the bar

ice settles in the glass

            he coughs

                        clears his throat

                                    and starts to speak

my clichés clot

            across the veins

                        of my life

my clichés clot

            like spilled blood

                        in the snow

my clichés clot

            my speech

                        with a swollen tongue

my clichés clot

            all with whom I interact

                        everyday every day

my clichés clot

            until my heart

                        thickens in disgust

Not that what I have to say is urgent,

or even all that amusing;

but it is what I have to say,

and that becomes my reason to speak,

and that becomes my urgency:

for what I long to say to you

is, amusing enough, all that I can

do to show how much I love you.

(May 2012, work in progress)