Laguna Hills, CA, October 1998

J.,

And you,
What are you doing now --
Found success at last?
Stepped through
The once-closed
Door of the glamorous
Elite of
Hollywoodland?

Are you finally
Truly out of reach?

(I force myself to consider
The possibilities
Like salt on a canker sore
To sting with pain
Beyond imagination so
A kind of healing can begin)

I let a succession
Of scenarios, one
After the other, march
Across the burning-hot
Terracotta tile of my
Consciousness --
The ones I can't resolve
Are the ones in which
I imagine
Coming upon you
With another of me in tow
And I don't quite
Know how she fits
Into your routine.

And you see me and
What...
Then...

The ones I do resolve
Send a shiver
Through my loins
With images almost palpable
Of sweat and ragged breath
Of music and copious laughter
Of a gaze I find impossible
To maintain -- your eyes
Stop my breath in my throat
Accelerate my heartbeat
Like a drum
Signalling from far away
"'Won't you reach for me J..."

Mirla

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