Heartbreak Insanity

When the young man fell for the township park secretary, he basically said this:
Here are the keys to my heart, don’t lose them, or throw them away.
Oh, he did not say this explicitly, but it was the message carelessly sent
by attitude, by his actions, and simply by the way he looked at her.
This raw young man was naive bait for a hungry married woman.

Fast forward through all the initial stirrings of office banter and lunch dates.
The scene now is a piano bench--they both sit tapping the black and white
keys pretending they are interested in the piano but both thinking of sex.
The fling began for her, but for him what began was the ocean of love
in which to drown, or a flight among the wispy clouds, or perhaps a
the search for ammunition by which he could inflict bloody wounds.

Sometimes it is a long fall, and emotion has no parachute.
He scaled a narrow ledge, vulnerable to strong gusts of reality.
It was the sensation of falling, but in slow motion.  And for a time,
the universe was confined to the sensation surrounding his manhood,
and nothing else mattered but delicious liquid, purring cats, electric fur.
Find him with flushed face, the friendship train glittering like so many stars,
caution to the snows of Kilimanjaro among satin sheets and milky white arms.

A winter storm began one time when she decided flings are finite.
And oh, the young man thought, how disadvantageous is the blizzard!
How static are the days, no clarity nor magic wand, all music barely audible.
Behold love’s fall, as steep as sass, then flat as fields of irrigation.
Into the light while he is dark, medieval born of lust cut short,
yet all the while carrying his heart around in pieces.



24 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
8-15-20