He Takes

He stole the gold

wrist and neck chains,

pawned 'em

for good money,

took the cash,

rings, coin collection

-gold and silver,

collectors guns,

an iPod and

its speakers,

cashed in the

savings bonds

and his own

insurance

policy,

"lost" an iPhone,

smashed a car,

blew out engine one,

blew out engine two

(different car)

He's a thief

so he can be an addict,

he likes heroin

heroin eats him

He's a liar

so he can be an addict

he likes heroin

heroin speaks truth

He steals the truth

so he can be a lying addict

he says

trust me

so he can con me

again

too late for locks,

nothing left

©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Your Word

Your word is only a sound you make,
a physical thing
it seems
     an involuntary response
          to some distant stimulus
chord vibrations that are pleasing
some center of your throat
in your cat-ness
     purring

for it has no connection
to what is here,
right now, in front of us,
was it even an interaction,
your reaction
to what I said,
cognizant of my sound
but not my thoughts?

Random follow-ups
put you in some distant place,
transported
or perhaps you were never here
to begin
this sin
of pretending to understand.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013

Wedding Dancing

Aches and pains
disappear

at the open bar

in open fascination
of the pulsing,
writhing mass
of dancing bodies
in techno-trap-
whadizthizmuzic.

A few quick
dance lessons

from Jack Daniels and
the music pulses in

matched synapses,

gives me that old
fashioned primal beat.

Salome, you dears,

don't ask for my head

when you nab me

for a dance, you

three, barely
thirty-something

daughter's friends,

in your combo of
youth and virtuosity.

Escorts at both elbows
with one leading the way,
to their dance floor domain
we go, those three
and my gray goatee to

jump

gyrate

bump

to the rhythmic method

of da-da-dancing,

definitely not the father-daughter dance.


©Eusebeia Philos 2013