I keep returning to them, feeling you
near me, though they’re only brilliant icons
recalling your smile—forced yet magic—true
to your desire to please all. A second
ago, I thought your eyes moved, their crystal
blue glowing at seeing me, your soft lips
suddenly pursing—silent way you’d call
for my kiss. Why do I repeat these trips
of insane longing, my mind and pained heart
kneeling before your staring image? Once,
your hand gently stroking my beard, you’d start
humming Nowhere Man, kidding me for stunts
only stumbling, shy lovers perform, lost
in your tender power, fearing its cost.
Roger Armbrust
January 4, 2010
