Kelley Yuga

The sex we had when we first met was nothing short of spectacular
But somehow I couldn't bring myself to live with your choice of vernaculars
We almost died one night a double homicide that would have been vehicular
All bruised and with free tickets I was six weeks on the phone with you bickering.

I felt myself on the edge of death but was alive and breathing my fears
From my deck space arced over the valley and the Libra sun was sere
Our link on the phone went fuzzy while my sight was praeternaturally clear
As I tried to pray you voice raspy and gray said "you should have a beer."

With half a stale beer from the fridge, a cig a big view and not a bit closer
On the phone multitasking your were moving so fast and I felt a beautiful loser
The static loosened but grippingly plaintive my past followed me through the door as
The phone buzz returned  before you quietly said "Gotta run, I'll call you at four".

I knew what that meant and buying my ticket and a wine drip at the Bear
I poured vodka into a gold cup and made my Yaksha forswear
My coursework prepared but mind in tatters I dragged myself down there
In a tweed jacket I taught Vedanta and whispered myself to the fair

I dropped names and mentioned industry friends where all was enlightened and clear
I brought La La land hubris to SUNY New Paltz, as though it were all in good cheer
Chainsmoking Lights, drinking Popov and phone sex with you at the bar
After four Sauzas and six Equis I was the most interesting man with a car.

As I have always been OK to drive, history here makes a circle
That was the last, almost, that I or you ever got into pickle
I crashed and it wasn't too bad as it happened at home, and in nice weather
It wrecked the 4Runner and couldn't save the one I drove after that either.

You all but ignored my calls from Marist as though you knew I was OK
The hot intern on ultrasound thought I was the strongest heart seen since May
She couldn't find my missing T-Wave on EKG or on the video screen
They scolded me at noon day three when I requested more Percs in between

The morning Perc and the Vicodin for which my chest pain was a modicum
As mental pain beat Vicodin then, it became odium theologicum
When they called in a tall fierce Haitian priest to tell the evils of alcoholism
I echoed his voice, made a rational choice, and showed him my big Baalism

I thanked him as he walked out with a sanctimony so thorough
I laughed loud for a while and cried, "My Kingdom for a Marlboro!"
The smoking life kept equity when I ascended to the Plateau
Round the corner from Lenny's talking your sense with students and friends from below.

Never did catch up with Justin your boy or his eponymous dad Pierre.
Nor with R. and R. or with you for that matter except the time I last dared
Your mojo burning so bright and fast while the case of Gekkaikan ran out
You are some kind of fucking Dakini -- that's what your gig's all about.