Games

by Brian Jude

Mish-mish hodgepodge of brain-matter scatter,
Covered in a mucky ooze of emotional ice cream soup.
Hot-cold flashes twists the heart inside-out;
A gelatinous body lies limp in my arms.

"I want less," she says.
"I want more," she says.
"I want a lot more

with a lot less

of what I wanted more of

before I wanted less

like before," she says.

Are you sure?
Please!
Take your worry-wort woes away from my heart, but
Leave me something to satisfy,

placidify,

rectify my mind.

You're here, but your not.

Well, what's here is what your not,

although it is to me but not to you

because you can't see where you are

or how to be

when you're with me.

So you're looking.

Looking.

Looking for...

you.

Trying to find that secret hiding space you go to

while your subconciousness counts to ten

in my presence.

But you're tired of this hide-and-seek game,

Tired of tirck-or-treat masks

and pin-the-name-tag-on-the-relationship

and the invisible walls to imaginary bedrooms that your internal maternal instinct condemns you to

whenever you're happy.

You want to be free.

Free for me to see what it is you are

and were

and will be.

You walk backwards to get closer to me,

retracing your steps,

shouting, "Green light, Red light!!!"

in your mind

though still wondering if my eyes will sleep dryly tonight.

Mother May I

hold your daughter's hand

once more

and kiss her smile

when it feels appropriate?

I'm calling Time Out!

I want to have a do over!

My distancing resentment has subsided by now.
I will sit and watch as a season-pass wielding spectator

as you participate in your emotional decathlon.

I will babysit my bleeding heart

as you play with your Tinker-Toys and Erector Sets

and you game of "I Spy A Self-Imposed Limitation I Created

That You Will Suffer For."

I will be by your side in your conjured casino

as you read into the cards you've dealt for yourself

in a solitaire-poke creation

that you've put all of your chips into,

unsure of the outcome,

but taking a gamble anyway.

And I know it will tire you after a while.
I know it will teach you what you need to learn,

(whatever that may be)

and you will see a way to be true to me

and still be free.

And then I know I can expect the gentle touch upon my shoulder,

and the sweet whisper to whistle in my ear

and say to me,

"Tag! You're it!"

© Brian Jude Back to My Poetry Page.

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