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Lupines and Sticky Monkeys

Posted: Thu Jun 09, 2011 10:34 am
by Teratogen
Lupines and Sticky Monkeys

I watched you sleeping on the couch,
the dog in your lap,
threads of hair adorning your forehead and cheek,
unmindful of the din aroused from across the coffee table,
and I thought of the lupines and sticky monkeys
we encountered earlier
hiking up to the majestic, layered waterfalls, the three of us,
where the tadpoles ruminated the moss and
where we sat on the rocks and watched the dogs dally and frolic;
sublimation of a fondness unspoken
into a weakness fairly curious—
a serious theory that every science
could seldom convey
and would at last transmit
into song.
Your friends summoned the tempest
as you drowsed in complacency;
sometimes it’s nice to use as cover,
as they engage their thoughts
to their mouths,
to idly attend with an ear
and, in concert, furtively focus affectionately
on the weary wonderment
that stirs beneath your eyelids,
toes curled up in socks,
hand behind your head,
the dog’s chin resting on your chest.
Today you beamed,
reciting your current, recently renewed appraisal
of the joys in life,
and I knew then where my place in it was—
I knew how much I was worth
as the quiet boy that sees your friends talking
and listens to you sleeping,
no longer contemplating the value
of my presence
when your happiness has awakened.
Though my discursive involvement had to be sacrificed,
it was worth the price of admittance
to be your humble witness.
Lupines and sticky monkeys
had been an exceptional new experience—
the things to be learned
when listening
with my eyes.

The inherent peril in the unrestricted dialogue
that hears one who observes such truths so boldly
is the chance of being captured.
Whether an arrest had been warranted
or I was merely asking for it
they provoked your ears for a response,
and your sanguine eyes opened
to acknowledge my tender and merry admission of guilt.
Not every conversation was meant for me.