171: L.A. Lobotomies

one poem, two versions

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L.A. Lobotomy (early draft)

AGE 29 - Rural Nevada

I met you before all the ruckus.
You said I was ugly, but harmless.
I said you were cute, but annoying.
You said I was gripping, but cloying.
I asked, “Shall we rally a set?”
You coquetted me, cross the net.
We quit when it started to rain.
The contest dilated my brain.

I asked if you wanted to hang.
You said you resented my slang,
but — if I desired — we could drink.
The barstools were placid and pink.
You told me the silence was boring,
then led me outside — it was pouring!
We danced in the furious rain.
Your kiss numbed the edge of my brain.

That night, at a charity party,
I snatched you from Prof. Moriarty.
You said, if I sought your attention,
we’d best make a covert ascension.
You covered one nostril... and snorted!
The sound was erotic and sordid.
“You scared, boy? It’s only cocaine.”
Your drugs burned a hole in my brain.

Hotel rooms are haunted by lovers.
I lay with you, under the covers.
You asked if I wanted a push.
I said I just wanted to touch.
You chuckled… and flaunted my feelings.
I traced all the cracks in the ceiling.
You lifted your bag and champagne;
your egress bisected my brain.

Your girlfriends both said they were sorry.
Brigitta put down her Atari;
Alicia dressed down, to command.
She trailed in fine heel-marks of sand.
The orgy was pleasant, but taxing.
One carried a candle… for waxing!
One lashed cross the bed on a chain.
Your orderlies sutured my brain.

The fool, who is keen for adventure,
ought seek not his heart to indenture.
I knew this right from the beginning,
yet stagger: mind emptied, and spinning!
Now, once more alone in the cold,
no vessel remains for to hold
my ardor — your warmth to retain.
The want burns a hole in my brain.
.

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L.A. Lobotomy (final draft)

AGE 44 - THE VOID

I met you before all the ruckus.
You said I was ugly, but harmless.
I said you were cute but annoying.
You said I was gripping. But cloying.

I asked: “Shall we rally a set?”
You coquetted me, cross the net.
We quit when you mimicked a sprain.
The contest dilated my brain.

I asked if you wanted to hang.
You said you resented my slang,
but — if I desired — we could drink!
The barstools were placid and pink.

You told me the silence was boring,
then led me outside. It was pouring!
We danced in the furious rain.
Your kiss numbed the edge of my brain.

That night, at a charity party,
my idiolect became arty.
You said if I wanted attention,
we’d best seek the stairs — and ascension!

You covered one nostril and snorted.
The sound was erotic, and sordid!
“You scared, boy? It’s only cocaine.”
Your drugs burned a hole in my brain.

Hotel rooms are haunted by lovers!
I lay with you, under the covers.
You asked if I wanted a push;
I said I just wanted to touch.

You chuckled, and flaunted my feelings.
I traced all the cracks in the ceiling.
You lifted your bag and champagne.
Your egress bisected my brain.

Your girlfriends were ever so sorry.
Brigitta put down her Atari.
Alicia got dressed to command:
as sharp as stilettos — through sand!

The orgy was pleasant. But taxing.
One carried a candle, for waxing!
One lashed cross the bed on a chain.
Your orderlies sutured my brain.

The fool, who is keen for adventure,
ought seek not his wit to indenture.
Though heedful straight from the beginning:
I’m hollowed-out, staggered, and spinning!

Through parking lots — callow, and cold —
no vehicle serves to unfold
my summons, your heart to arraign.
The hurt burns a hole in my brain.
.

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