Pipes' Ping

it's supposed to be winter and
i'm officially tired
of all their
grand gestures,
symbolic meetings of solidarity,
rallying cries,
and statement games.

right now
i want the forgotten,
the never noticed,
the pushed aside,
the beetle's wing,
the offscreen,
bob marley's toe,
the surrendered,
and useless shadows
at 4 o'clock.

it's supposed to be winter,
my biology's
for a long overdue hibernation
behind closed doors
with you:

what we
see, feel, smell, taste
and nothing else
for a while;

and down blankets,
and snow,
and windows
from frost.

tonight i turned the heat on for us,
listened to the pipes' ping
for a while,

i was waiting for you
somewhere else.

Los Angeles - 2/15/06