Tonight we have grown jaunty on the boardwalk 
Sighing through our cotton candy whispers
Martyring the merry-go-round 
Mounting its immortal painted horses
Over and over again
Fooling crafty clowns who ambulate 
Past lovers on the boardwalk
Hiding wrinkles behind painted smiles—
These self-proclaimed masters of masquerade! 

Yet there’s a gold-tinged moonlight 
Settled in the cracks between the planks;
Submerged in sea-green splashes,
Splintered from the beat of youthful footsteps,
The boardwalk bears the burden of two little heroes;
The oceanside grows jealous,
Spouting its complaints and waves

I apprehend our music in these mermaids 
Crooning from the cracks between the planks 

Yet then a little girl runs through 
Spinning on the Ferris wheel 
Casting puppet shadows on the boardwalk
As her fingers reach the clouds,
And soon she is eighteen 

I’ve always had a weapon— 
A knife I’ve hidden deep inside its sheath;
I’ve spent my evenings at the anvil 
Crafting mixed-up toys 
And ammunition 
Sharpening my blades
To wage a mêlée or a sneak-attack
But recently I’m drained

With every passing moonbeam 
Streaking through her wispy platinum hair 
With every wandering bubble 
That she blows from plastic circles on a stick
Your conscience grows nomadic
My dignity distends 
And bursts

These male warriors—
Sprouting rhizomatic lines over their cheeks 
Wisdom half-incarnate yet eroticism fledged
Dare they take a stance on me?

Well, if you run away
I’ll give myself to the next traveler 
Through this carnival of reason
Yet amongst these luscious candidates
You’ve inherited the luxury of hesitation 
From the will of the discriminating cosmos
And every time I run away 
I face a battle of diminishing returns 
On brashness and my aptitude 
For looking pretty 

Every Sunday morning,
Hunched over the frying pan, 
I am cracking eggs for breakfast 
Wondering whether I won’t be that mother hen 
Pumping out those eggs 
For boys to eat for breakfast
Scrambled, of course (the only way they’ve known to live)
At times, I keep the cartons past their expiration dates 
Until I amble towards the grocery store
Buy another dozen 
Crack them once again 
For men to eat 

If now I am restrained 
Then what might I be in twenty years?

In these final days,
Before I’ll need to paint my hair just to compete 
With all the girls turning twenty-one,
I have primped and spouted 
Rhetoric that transcends ages 
Stuffing up my head with knowledge, money and equations 
Literary feats and myriads of conversations
Yet these beasts that lord over 
The reign of featherbrained frivolity
Are worth much more just for the way
Their skin runs smooth over their cheeks 
As sticks of shiny yellow butter 
Yet some of them are margarine 

And in my vacillation I have minced up decades
Caught up in this capitalist charade 
I have bought up pinwheels from the boardwalk 
Traded up my tickets for a bubblegum pink teddy
Stood in line for hotdogs, popcorn, and confections  
Yet I cannot barter with these little girls 
Lined up at the pub 
Dolled up in a little dress at twenty-one
Blonde

And where was I 
When I was eighteen and then twenty-one 
Keeping conscience to myself 
Along the beach
When my propriety was nestled 
In his hand

If only I was blonde with margarine cheeks! 

Now they can decide!
And I am jogging alongside trains
No—I am this puny locomotive!
And spruced up as a speeding train, 
I will reach the finish line 
Without admiring the scenery 
Flowing towards a bleary origin 
Where, frail, we will have run our course 

Yet man is like a rowboat 
And it is all romantic on the lake 
There is no sign of gutter on the streets 
The infrastructure that indicates modernity
In civilization’s final days 
There is an endless orange-purple sunset 
And girls wait in line to ride on that romantic lake 

Until we all turn into ugly trains 
Devoid of passengers 

And there are no eggs left in the grocery store 

Deep beyond the mountaintops
Where the lilacs banter with the breezes
I rather like this Tyrian allegiance  
There are couples with their joint umbrellas 
Waterfalls reflecting turquoise 
Colors seeping into trees 
The dawn’s collected in a puddle 
And beyond the hilltops 
I have once inhabited a castle 
Admiring the stonework 

You oversaw the masonry
Always building butterflies and kingdoms 
Hosting all your Gatsby parties 
Uninvited people at our fling 

I linger here in waiting 
Excited once again to deck the ceilings
For these Viennese proceedings  
Pretend to be a Cinderella 
Dancing in forgotten shoes
And when the temperature turns right
Leave again with you  

Four years ago I was indifferent 
Believing I could pose before a mirror 
Usher in my final truth 
Captive princess in a studded dress
Now I await your ceremonious arrival
And just like Gatsby you are never there 

Hidden deep inside the hallways 
Underneath the paintings
Featuring your knightly reign 
I am tucked inside an alcove 
Reading of the Dante seasons 
That push sinners into rings 

You said you’ve had enough of this Italian 
Better off I wouldn’t read 
Yet underneath the blankets 
I am analyzing Chaucer’s Tale of the Clerk
You have could have grasped the cadence 
Of my insinuations 
On the day that we both left
Griselda’s patience captured in a blurb
Yet I can’t remember what the story means 

And this is not a pilgrimage 
We are not telling fairy stories
The prioress dislikes the Jews 
My fairies are your philistines
And I am Samson cowering before Delilah 
I have always been the man in this charade
Welcome to the Levantine parade 

And I have nothing to compare this to 
Amongst quotidian proceedings 
Concerning unwashed tupperware
And garbage baskets undisposed
You complain you are too tired after work 
Where did our fairy kingdom go? 

I had crafted you into a cynosure 
Of understanding all that is romantic 
Yet beyond my kingdom
You could worship only the banal 

Maybe it’s more peaceful without you 
Yet if life is rowboat tunes 
And moonshine after midnight 
Then why can’t I sleep 

I would like to write a book 
Of all the islands I’ve inhabited with you 
A paradise that knows no bounds or ends
Where dolphins jump at the aurora 
It’s in my head 

You drop off amidst the difference in our time 
Yet if I wanted to be left alone 
Don’t you think I would’ve made it known? 

I wish I had more memories to write 
But you won’t see me more than once a year 
Maybe you’ll end up in the city soon

I move into my new apartment 
And the windowpanes are sealed shut 
Maybe I am trapped because of you 
You are nothing like I remember you 

We do not go out 
We never talk 
There is not much to talk about 

My head grows cold 

You were since peripatetic
Swapping other kingdoms 
For the memory of mine 
Bidding it away again  

I have expended all my thoughts of you 
Yet somehow there is more to say 

This is forbearance 
Indolence gone wild 
Yet if your gall could never win
Then why am I dejected?

You set out to impress a girl 
Hotel open to the public 
Wooden branches, heavy benches 
Wandering the candlelight 
You said you liked her sea blue eyes—
Why don’t you marry her 

I said I’ll see what I can do 

We are leaning on the rails 
Of a renovated staircase 
You said that she was running late 
Emulating vocal dances 
Enunciating clearly like a pilot on a plane 
Tucked inside a garrulous recording 
You could be a pilot all the same 

And then one day we’re lounging in the pub 
Huddled right between me and this luring apparition 
I was hungry all the same 
And then she said— 
Whiffing vestiges of velveteen upholstery 
Folding someone else’s gait into her arms
Dreamlike campy undertones—
I am in love. 

We watched her bidding farewell on the train 
I think that jealousy has gone to rage 
That captivating fervor, 
Coquettish smile melting into dusk’s caress
We wander down a sunlit street. 
Sipping our martinis in a more luxurious space 

I know how you love her but what might you think of me 
And then, sealing my eyes shut, 
Imagining her self-enacted throne, 
I could not remember the color of your eyes 
Nestled deep beneath your glasses and your scintillating gaze. 

And then I thought that I should run to you 
Playing with your undeserving heart 
I thought I should stage a feint  
Unbuttoning my shirt 
Throwing on a captivating giggle 
I would like to play her renovated likeness 
Laced up leather Chelseas clacking down the street 
I cannot amend my deep flirtatious ways 
It is solidified 
Silk white button-down 
Tantalizing skirt 
We talk of languages and families 
And then you asked me for a drink. 

I have counted all the moments
Wrapped in lemons, gins and tonics
Clearing glasses from the living room 
This is not another drunken bait  
You sat there on my chair 
A little boy dressed up in glasses 
Set out to impress a girl 

If I should forgive you— 

Circling a fountain 
Lit with rubble, red and scarlet 
Rooftop pools, a brick horizon
Fireworks eclipsed these lounge chairs
Just as scheming wrought your soul
You were always calling on the phone
And then I was unwell—
Twice, if you must know; 
We wander down a sunlit street
I called you up for comfort on the phone 
Anticipating steady trances 
Every day we stumble down this hole 

Where are all my sleeping pills 
The doctors said it was a stupid childish obsession 
Enacting vengeance on a blindspot, this debilitating aura
How can I sleep without you on the phone 
What can I do the moment you have fallen cold

Melting into the caress of dusk 
I hear your screams 
And then you started softly crying 
How are we to have known
You said—I will be with the girl with sea blue eyes 

You said it was to impress a girl 

I am circling the fountain 
Makeshift metal willow tree 
Weeping sultry undulations 
It is musty to the taste
I walk up to the ice cream truck 
Shuffling my keys 
And who’d have thought that crickets chorused in New York 
I am falling fast asleep 
You said you liked a girl in glasses and a buttoned shirt—