bootslack

Pure signal.

You turned away

Not no, but suddenly nothing.

A chill down my spine
as my hand swept through air
I had reached out and touched a ghost.

In the glitter and warmth
like the door breath of a bar
onto the Seattle streets at Christmas

Like Christmas when selfish people dress their homes
which they do not share with others
with lights.

I had touched a ghost
I had felt the warmth of amplifier tubes and stage lights
incandescent filaments scintillating in vacuum behind glass
I had felt the warmth of stage lights and mistook them
for a person
I had touched a ghost

And the warmth on my skin
ionizing radiation
went down my spine cold
down into my heart cold

as the air around me was suddenly sterile and empty,
and your “I love you.” eyes, your “I might need something from you.” eyes
likewise.

I was warm and then cold
and slightly humiliated
like you put my hand in warm water while I was sleeping
and I pissed myself.

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September 26, 2008 - Posted by | Poems

1 Comment »

  1. Like, 4 people have asked me who this was about — it’s about performing on stage. The distance between standing on stage and delivering a poem, and going home later that night.

    Comment by bootslack | September 29, 2008 | Reply


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