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Fragment 49


by Gary Percesepe


We step and do not step into the same rivers; we are and are not  ~ Heraclitus

 

 

What I took to be a man weeping 

in a blue suit turned out to be the president

ogling a teenage contestant

 

and just when I thought I'd taken the

last nail I received your voicemail

and felt its rope of distance 

 

tugging me back to you-- where I'd stay 

forever if given a choice, like a carpet of

yellow roses rooted in your skin 

 

but walking west what I thought was a

crime in the making turned out to be the

symphony warming up on 57thStreet

 

and I recognize the need to climb down

from the cross, stop thinking of all the losses

and remember that you're the best cutman, baby

 

and with you in my corner I'm the perfume

of warm summer rain & when the blood gets

redder you get busier with Vaseline, Q tips, and ice

 

but what I thought was a calendar of the years of

my marriage turned out to be a boat filled with bilge

listing starboard on the wrong side of the Sound

 

and what I thought was a good Belgian 

beer turned out to be a suitcase of old

porn on the porch

 

and what looked like a shelf of cologne

turned out to be a sweater of spiders

and what I thought to be the right hand

 

of God was only Eddie Haskell grilling 

hot dogs in my backyard, his narrow

feet jammed into broken sandals

 

and as for what was once thought to be

the will of God, well that turned out to be 

a tag for twenty percent on the next pedicure.

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