#7 Excel Now

1

I met a man once
Who was brindled with kisses,
Dusted with love
From crown to tail.

He smiled at me sidelong,
I grinned at his misses,
And none of us got
To St. Ives that day.

2

She winds her hair into
A loose carapace,
Stretches, all self-conscious,
Face averted says:
"Well, I don't tend to
Credit it - this superstitious stuff."

I nod, I've never told her just
How many times my mother tried,
How many times my mother cried,
And what that makes me.

I stare in the direction
Of her reflection-absorbed visage,
Thinking bitterly how blissful
Ignorance must be.

3

Stack their several
Personalities and you
Might get a whole man.

Stereotyping
Is irresistible and
I'm not paid enough.

They're sitting on a
Gold mine but can't see it yet;
It makes me so mad.

4

I tried counting them -
Definitely more than a handful,
And less than two,
The task proving tricky.

More an elegant
Coincidence than what
You might call a pack,
They lack the desire to gather

So I never measured them
Successfully, never discovered
If it was her or her seeming sister
I kissed that night
Before she glided clean away.

5

Before I knew
What I was doing
They were twinkling in my hand
Then in my pocket.

"Docking your wages," I think,
"Won't start to cover this,"
But the tingling bliss of possession
Springs me through the door.

More than enough
To start anew
If I haven't screwed myself
Past the sticking point.

6

I don't hold with
All that - animal parts,
Mutant plants,
Pasternosters handed out.

You make your own -
Blow your own tune,
Rue your own mistakes,
Roll high on good stakes

Or trust your blood
The alchemy of a mother's
Final gift,
A glittering list of fathers,
Further shores beckoning;
It always pays
To plan your reckoning.

7

I've seen my share
Held them beating
Or trickling from my grip
And one night -
One memorable night -
I tasted all of them.
Mostly one by one,
But some at the same time.
Delicious, really.

Except this one -
And who seeks her out?
The green-eyed sister
Who lives to lurk
Around blissful corners,
To jump and tug you down,
Gritted teeth chiming
Down to your icy guts.

The best I've garnered
From her hooked embrace
Is to face up,
And gently talk her to the floor,
Then stand on her back
To better see what next.
You've got to get high
If you want to excel.