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The Scrambler
art-literature-music/arte-literatura-música
you will never know
why this poem means.
only
that it does.

it will stalk you tomorrow.
hunt you in dreams.
curse you for not knowing.
and remain un known.

it will say
forget it,
then wake you at 3am
demanding answers.

you have none.

it will telephone.
send letters.
whisper at night,
do you know?

and still, you
will not.

you will contrive,
pretend, falsify
meanings.  in the end,

falling asleep
each night.
knowing only  -
you do
not know.
mean ing
i no longer care how the moon balances
        each evening
        crested between
        wax and wane.

i no longer care how your silken hair
        teased in
        moonlight, ripples thru
        meaning unannounced.

i no longer care why buildings
        stand vertical, swearing
        at the sky, daring
        the moon come closer.

i no longer care why your heart
        sings with altitude,
        making moons dance,
        longing ever
        for great care.
care dare
if you forgot to write,
i am writing to
remind you. i made it easy.
here is the
letter you
can return.

including
words i want to hear.
what only you
could    not say.

they could be yours
but forgotten like
lost mail - returned to sender.

remember how i want
it said.  remember the
vowel's demanding texture,
to be read.

gently lick the stamp
then let it drop
in the mail slot.

precious cargo of words.

i am waiting.
forget it
*Richard Lighthouse lives in Texas.