Uncle Bob's Words

Words, poetry, stuff like that

Archive for the month “December, 2014”

If I Were a Vine

If I were a vine, a convolvulus,

I would wrap me around you to keep you near.

Of course, I could squeeze dangerously close.

But that’s probably not going to happen.



O hai.

I don’t have anything for you today; I’m totally alone in my skin.

Whoever was here is gone; I’m into other arms now.

I don’t have time for listening; not listening, I have no time.

The soundtrack plays as my eyes are seeing twenty years ago.


O hai, that’s the door over there.  It works.  You came in that way.

Birds can hear approaching thunder.  I hear you walking away.

This will pass, this will all pass.  It will pass, in time, it will pass.

I need to find that memory, talk to it, and make it go away.


Accuradio just laid out a song, an oldie, golden.

I know it well: every note recalls those memories.

Memories of then, memories of you.


Summer: windows open to the breeze.

Lying naked on the couch.

Your silken skin, your careful hands.


Ah, I tried to go on a bender after you left,

But I just didn’t work.  I don’t do wastrel well.

I rearranged the furniture, got a cat.

And after a while, I found another you.

But that song always gives me pause

As I get that familiar frisson, a tingle on the tongue

As I watch the scenes.  Then, I laugh.

Got me, you mnemonic fox-trickster…


Wasn’t a bad thing, though, not really.

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