Of A Piece 
“Tell me,” she says
Not wanting to know
What I do/ don’t
A first date since you…
…as
Inquisition
or
decision on hold
To be
dissected
inspected
or left
In checkmated dread
several moves ahead
And I’m willing to lose
If at the end, the gain
Tells me I’ve achieved
Something close
to feeling again
anything
since then. Since us
I mean to say when
I was less invisible
or whole
or of a piece
that could feel, when I bled
to keep you
and was nothing like this
a day walker among
the ambling dead.
—–
For K 
If not an illusion, then what is she?
This nymph my dreams are a landscape for
who asks that I leave her adrift and free
as ocean waves steal her to distant shores,
Where she will find herself or another
she’s long seen in shadows pursuing her
who might be me or not, who discovers
the sad song she sings to a dulcimer.
And the oceans echoes will carry it
only to me through the bewitching wind
I’m sure she’s real, even the rains light mist
can’t hide her forever like childhood sins
when sirens sing, I still listen in vain
thinking they’re her, whispering my name
——-
Departure’s Price
To feel what isn’t there
Is all I need this far
into a one-night adventure
daylight now ends.
Wanting her to tell me nothing
except lies that would convince
a clock to move forward
to no return or a pause
at the precise or
rumored false step
any love demands more
than once…
Around which we skirted
skilled as puppets
who can do little more
than entertain
even when the applause
is neither obsequious
or false.
And now the price of
departure, a tax
wanton drinking and lust begets,
awaits with receipt…
As we linger in a paid for bed
without the energy for lies
I check messages
that say nothing.
While you watch
and show no emotion
a copy of me
trying to figure out
long after the last kiss
how to get out of this
with a grace we both lack.
Knowing this was a mistake
and the new day only
a chance to make more.

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