Thursday, December 30, 2010

Begging For Snow

I was driving in this non-snow weather
I had been thinking of seeing that frosty blanket of white
covering the ground, inspiring a feeling or purity to it all
But instead I found the streets damp, cold, drery
People were speeding, cutting each other
off through intersections and entrance ramps
I was trying to cut off the thoughts of you before you
turn my head towards all the trucks that look just like yours
I guess I hadn't gotten the speed built up enough, because you beat me there
To the roads in my mind that were too much traveled and too few times ignored
I passed the third truck like your's just two minutes away from
home, all three of them I'd searched with my eyes, with my all
Trying to feel where you are
Where are you right now?
You're not next to me, I know
Holding my hand over this console
Smiling when I tell you beautiful things about
yourself like how your nose wiggles when your laugh
at me or how when you laugh hard your upper lip
will cover your bottom lip when your mouth closes
I always loved those things about you, and I'd tell you
all the time because you said it never ceased to amaze
you at how I noticed these things that only you knew
I remember how you'd gasp for breath when we touch fingertips and I'd run
my thumb gently in circles on the paper thin flesh of the back of your hand
Your flesh as white as the snow I now beg for, your
purity dangling before me in the form of my old button
up shirt sliding from your shoulders, your smile, my god
Your smell the only air in the room when we kissed and how I'd breathe in
so deeply when we were close, as if trying to take you in to be held forever
And I'd worship you, every inch so pure, so driven to feel my lips slipping across you, you'd moan so softly that it'd seem as if your soul had sighed
I would move slow, tears falling from the corners of your eyes as I enter
you, and your breath would speed past my ears, my neck, my soul and my heart
I open my eyes in the parking lot, take
a deep breath that doesn't smell of you
I stare at the console, the floorboard
My passenger seat which is still missing you
I close my eyes tightly and my hand grips
itself so intensely over the console, begging
through stessful movement for you to enter
fingertips through and inside it's hold
Open eyes, open door, open hands, step out
Close door, blink, swing legs, walk away

© 2010 William A. Robertson (All Rights Reserved)