to michelle

why did you leave us?
we were mutual admirers
who failed at every attempt at connection

a songwriter once expressed his admiration for a woman
by observing that valentines couldn't buy her
you had a soft heart
and to your credit, valentines couldn't buy you, either

i once invited you to join me
on an imaginary trip down the ganges river
in a houseboat, with a dog and cat
that had been raised together since birth

your prompt, affirmative response
became lost in the cybernetic ether

you taught me that what is, is
everything is what you make it
if you let life define you
then you might as well not live it

some of us aren't cut out for the harshness of this life
you have to imagine a life
that's so much bigger than this one
if you don't, it might as well be over

i love you/i hate you
you love you/you hate you
that's who you are
that's who i am
you have reason to hate me

why did you leave?
now you can't hurt me any more

§   §   §

A dream
I'm at M's for the first time. It's a combination of house and studio. She's with friends and colleagues. I have a magnetic tape with me, but I don't know how I got it. It's a reel-to-reel but it has the width of a cassette tape. Somehow, despite its width, it's a video tape. I watch for a few seconds on a playback machine and see that M is in it. There's some tasteful veiled nudity and mildly suggestive sensuality but no sex.

Playing the gallant gentleman, I say to her, "Here, I want you to have the tape, so it doesn't get out and cause you embarrassment." She's cordial with me but not warm.

M is Caucasian or perhaps of indeterminate mixed race, and has big, open eyes. This was the first time I was close enough to feel her, and the effect was powerful and magnetic. She smelled good, pleasant, feminine, but without a lot a heavy perfume.

She turned away, leaving me alone with the others. I put the tape on a rewinding machine. It quickly got hopelessly tangled, a most frustrating experience.

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