We Are Unique discussion

Washing Windows

She asked me why
window-washers wear harnesses

I said for their loved ones.

She giggled,
“I don’t love you.”

So I took it off,
pulled her out of the window
and we both fell to our deaths.

One of us went to Hell.

Giraffe

There is a giraffe who reads my words for me
stands up tall because she loves me like a high leaf

She has a reading every Friday at the club
and they love her because she is so beautiful
and she is so slim and long necked, yes!

She is so cool when
she reaches high
and reaches low

She has no stage fright and
her heart beats true always for me;
I think she can throb for me
without a worry about her heart
except if she would think I would not kiss her neck, but

I would and would all over
and even take her hand for
an innocent walk in the woods

just because I want to
share the moon with her
and do a silly howl or
a lullaby for a Friday night
when she comes home with me
high on applause but
waiting for me to clap
and I do of course, because

we will turn many leaves indeed
just like we always knew some day
we would learn to speak
the language of love like
the necking of the Sun and the Moon,
light on a leaf of belief standing tall.

I don't wash windows without my giraffe because it can reach the next floor up and put its neck on the window sill. I guess sometimes a tease is misunderstood.

Gone

What will I do when you're gone, and
nobody hears me, nobody touches
the skin of my existence, and they

don't ask me why
I like a touch of love
so gentle, so subtle

when so many gross things
are easily available.

When you're gone
nobody will ask me

a shy question about
falling for fluffy pillows
in clouds of heaven

where you rest. I
scream.

Wow O_O
Washing Windows made me stop rocking to my music
Giraffe made my eyes flash across the screen
Gone made my heart stop for a beat.

    Thanks very much. I had forgotten about these and last year World Poetry day had come and gone with a fizzle. I think it was last year or maybe the year before, when I went out to Central Park to read my poems for so-called "April is Poetry Month." They make up these holidays, but actually only famous people get a boost from them.
    So, this year I didn't bother with anything. Nothing actually works.

The Murder of Asperger's Last Poet: The Poetry Legacy