on a dusty typewriter
devoid of ribbon
lacking in black
i type to write
but fail,
as much on paper as in mind.
nothing more to say
perhaps
or just no other way to say it.
see, we went through all the motions
all the trials and tribulations
of late night early morning phone calls
and an eternity of desperation -
pleading
crying
begging
faking
swearing
lying
hating
shouting
gently gently gently sobbing
into lonely palms no longer held by yours.
yet still, as centuries have passed
and generations died,
no change -
just left with nothing more
than daytime television,
memories and wine.
and so as
red and white denial breeds
red and white desire to
read and write words
that never will be seen
on a rusty typewriter
devoid of ribbon
yet never so black
i type to write
but fail,
my words as empty
as a starless winter sky
about to rain.
(2006)
