Piano Man

I love it when you play
And the music
soars through my bones,
rests on the tips of my fingers,
flows to those forgotten places:
the dip in my ear, the scar on my arm, the back of my knee.
And I am
whole
again.
And there is hope, and wonder, and happiness
once more.

G-Rated Kind of Girl (Written Oct. 2010)

You lean across the table, eyes glued to computer screen,
talking loudly and obnoxiously.
I notice the bald patch on your head;
white flakes of dandruff
and wonder why I’m attracted to you.
You move closer and I can’t decide if I want to
RUN
or kiss you,
just to know how it would feel.
Never wanted that before….
Just to
FEEL.
Just to let our fingers brush,
instead of analyzing every moment;
instead of looking over every inch of you as if a resume
that does not fit my carefully planned list.
Still I …
I dream of you and I,
together on the couch.
Steamy kisses,
legs intertwined.
You tell me my voice is sexy
and stroke the sewn-up hole on my knee.
I want to stroke the hole in your pants too,
—but the smoke from your cigarette kisses my cheek,
and even the cheap liquor and good music
can’t hide your crude politically incorrect jokes and
lack of ambition.
25 and still in undergrad,
flirting with anything in a skirt.
No desire for change.
So I don’t.
I don’t stoke your knee.
Pretend not to notice your advances.
You tell me I’m a
“G-rated kind of girl”,
even though inside my head the rating is only x.
Make that triple X.
You learn over, pulling me closer
And…
I lean away.
Avoid the kiss.
Can’t seem to just feel.
Wish you were more right for me.

Heartbeat

Your heartbeat gave you away.
I held your hand:
warm,
large,
engulfing.
My head rested against your shoulder,
and no matter how 
impassive
you tried to be in that moment,
--the infuriating stoicism
that makes it hard to 
read your expressions --
your beating heart gave you away.
Your pounding pulse beneath my fingertips,
as I pressed a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist.
The hitch of your breath as I stroked your nipple,
beading beneath the polo of your shirt.
Wanting and being wanted.
Pursuing and being pursued,
Your heartbeat gave it all away.
Despite your lack of words,
your heartbeat gave you away.
When you're frightened of the depths of your feeling,
too scared to talk; to act,
your heart beat gives you away.
I carry it with me,
that beat of your heart,
a soundtrack of hope.