Podstrešje spominov

Besede tvoje plast prahu prekriva,
čez misli nate mreže pajčevine,
in slika tvoje roke v moji mine
kot vsaka želja, ki se v kotu skriva.

So stara čustva skoraj že plesniva,
a te pošasti mojega spomina
in v prsih mojih topa bolečina
so krivi, da preteklost zdi se siva.

V omari vsi dotiki že visijo,
raztrgani objemi na polici
se zlikani in zloženi smejijo.

Vsi že gnijoči telefonski klici,
poljubi le zlagani hrepenijo,
da zadoščeno bi bilo pravici..

Pot do uspeha

Težko ti dovolijo,
da uspeš.
Še teže prebolijo,
ko uspeš.
A ko se zrušiš
in ne moreš več -
te privoščlivega prezira polni -
zapustijo.

Today well lived

Yesterday is just a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision,
But today well lived
Makes every yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well, therefore to this day!
Such is the solution to the dawn.

1. Kiss on the hand: I adore you ..

2. Kiss on the cheek: I just want to be friends ..

3. Kiss on the neck: want you ..

4. Kiss on the lips: I love you ..

5. Kiss on the ears: I am just playing ..

6. Kiss anywhere else: lets not get carried away ..

7. Look in your eyes: kiss me ..

8. Playing with your hair: I can't live without you ..

9. Hand on your waist: I love you to much to let you go ..

...

The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy


He proposed in the dunes,

they were wed by the sea,

Their nine-day-long honeymoon
was on the isle of Capri.

For their supper they had one specatular dish-
a simmering stew of mollusks and fish.
And while he savored the broth,
her bride's heart made a wish.

That wish came true-she gave birth to a baby.
But was this little one human
Well, maybe.

Ten fingers, ten toes,
he had plumbing and sight.
He could hear, he could feel,
but normal?
Not quite.
This unnatural birth, this canker, this blight,
was the start and the end and the sum of their plight.

She railed at the doctor:
"He cannot be mine.
He smells of the ocean, of seaweed and brine."

"You should count yourself lucky, for only last week,
I treated a girl with three ears and a beak.
That your son is half oyster
you cannot blame me.
... have you ever considered, by chance,
a small home by the sea?"

Not knowing what to name him,
they just called him Sam,
or sometimes,
"that thing that looks like a clam"

Everyone wondered, but no one could tell,
When would young Oyster Boy come out of his shell?

When the Thompson quadruplets espied him one day,
they called him a bivalve and ran quickly away.

One spring afternoon,
Sam was left in the rain.
At the southwestern corner of Seaview and Main,
he watched the rain water as it swirled
down the drain.

His mom on the freeway
in the breakdown lane
was pouding the dashboard-
she couldn't contain
the ever-rising grief,
frustration,
and pain.

"Really, sweetheart," she said
"I don't mean to make fun,
but something smells fishy
and I think it's our son.
I don't like to say this, but it must be said,
you're blaming our son for your problems in bed."

He tried salves, he tried ointments
that turned everything red.
He tried potions and lotions
and tincture of lead.
He ached and he itched and he twitched and he bled.

The doctor diagnosed,
"I can't quite be sure,
but the cause of the problem may also be the cure.
They say oysters improve your sexual powers.
Perhaps eating your son
would help you do it for hours!"

He came on tiptoe,
he came on the sly,
sweat on his forehead,
and on his lips-a lie.
"Son, are you happy? I don't mean to pry,
but do you dream of Heaven?
Have you ever wanted to die?

Sam blinked his eye twice.
but made no reply.
Dad fingered his knife and loosened his tie.

As he picked up his son,
Sam dripped on his coat.
With the shell to his lips,
Sam slipped down his throat.

They burried him quickly in the sand by the sea
-sighed a prayer, wept a tear-
and they were back home by three.

A cross of greay driftwood marked Oyster Boy's grave.
Words writ in the sand
promised Jesus would save.

But his memory was lost with one high-tide wave.