Wednesday, April 06, 2005

If I Had Never Met You I Wouldn't Know Chiaroscuro

The end is better if you know what's coming
after. You've clocked a thousand sky
miles, and now you want to settle down.
The caterer is having a crisis--hard
to imagine these people have lives.

Back then we'd sit at Big Nick's and read scripts.
You always had an open bag of peanuts in your pocket
but I never saw you eat one. Fontech became a lawyer.
Alison married the lighting designer she left you for.
You went into the family business--fruit baskets.
I moved to the middle. Space on either side.

The best part as I remember it was getting ready.
Hanging the lights, taping the exits, repeating
word for word, over and over. We weren't
the surprising elements, returning to the same
cherry orchards, the same balconies, the same
court rooms. I was blind and in the middle
of writing a letter when you broke in.
I was sitting on a park bench, and
you told me of your trip to the zoo.
You were sleeping with a countess whose
pussy smelled of metal, but I wore a red
dress anyway. We loved those people
and each other when we were those people.

Two sisters married two brothers, and that
was the beginning of a long line of misery.
That's life, you said, not knowing that it was.


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