Rhapsody for the Eighteenth of July

Sunday morning coffee
Decked out in a low-cut dress 
I dig my heel into the sidewalk cracks 
Casually composed 

Every morning I become a rabbit on a track 
With every passing lap 
The task distends 

I was there to weave my feelings 
Into window shop displays
Bought into your promises
That you would not be late 

No bandages conceal my bleeding 
When does it end? 
When shall I have grown calves? 

Beneath a hanging garden 
I was on a leather couch 
Nibbling on a chocolate pastry 
At a loss for words

All vanities must end 
Yet when you feed a fire 
It grows violent and vociferous 

Under indoor topiaries
Over chocolate croissants
We drown in amber mountain ranges 
Looming over Silicon Valley 

I almost wished to undertake your proposition 
You said we would continue it tomorrow 
Do you know what it’s like to be a friend? 

The conversation fizzles
In California you have sold your car
We round a restaurant at the corner 
What time is it? 

Your labyrinth aesthetics   
Took me in 
Extending painful explanations 

The afternoon has shattered into pieces
Conspicuously speechless
We traipse around the park
Mixing our ambitions and decisions 

Your sanity has gone abroad
And if I should tell you how I am 
Would you see me the next Saturday  

I have forgotten 
How to calculate a tip 
So you do it for me 
As we wander into Soho  

How can I tell you of the evenings I have wasted
Drifting off into the melody of you  
That no one but me listens to?

In an old department store 
Decked out in a yellow dress 
I become a spectacle 
To marvel at

I wish that you could know 
How you light me up 
How you disturb me 

There is talk of Soviet films 
And a series airing on TV 
We traverse the cobbled streets 
Aspiring uptown

Perhaps there are no secrets to divulge 
Yet amongst the crevices where silence grows
You said you’d want to see me soon again

Emerging from the subway 
We share a scoop of ice cream 
The last time we had sat so peacefully 
Together might have never happened 

I never wish to be a housewife
For tied to someone else he can escape 
While you cannot

When we left it was nighttime 

Liza Libes