Delaying the inevitable chore,
distasteful, disagreeably utile,
cracking open a creative divide,
writing mercenary words to eat.
Powerful procrastination widens
my eyes smoldering laser-see
the clouds churning charged,
ready to release and pour rain.
The storyline unfolds just then:
He had a girlfriend at the time.
Saigon had fallen two years prior.
So, his coming trailed calamity.
She walked the color of caress,
peaked fem-enigmatic effusion,
lithe boned and delicate fleshly.
Her name, a chilly winter song,
juxtaposing a bronzed-fire will,
she led him to the sun wingless.
And I watched behind a column
I constructed far too narrowly
to hide the heavy haunting me,
the girth of stony mind sleights.
I, velveted brown-eyed insecure,
peered around an Ionic pillar thin,
to gaze on a gazer, distant-drawn
drinking her gauzy gray-blue sea.
His eyes pierced her silken skin
hollowed her safe harbor’s vapor.
And there he knelt, nose in the air
sensing the suck of the sea’s loss
ebbing tides of futile passage…
and so it begins, drops descending,
disrupting imagery as I trace them,
all ten of them mustered in distress
great blustery burst of all but naught.
Like sitting by the window waiting
for inspiration and steely wit to spin
commercial cogs of nil to the world.
In the gaze of the other 