a poem for sarah and morris

[msjane]

I never saw a James Dean flick
but I youtubed him once to get the feel
and was struck by his boyish charm
and lack of rough exterior

we are only as tough as we pretend to be

I've been doing arithmetic
on scattered star soldiers
the pulping waste water of a patriarchy
they foreshadow Dean
before they become supernova gone bust

ice forms cut crampons through the foundation of the valley
articulated and caricatured
frenetic and disjunctive
and I see that
I am running away from myself
which is better than going it alone.

I always stop to blow kisses in reflection ponds

in the wake of emotional recession
I see in stone set shades of green
from moss agate to jade
and clear cut to two meals a day
(morris says one, but make it lavish
I must jewel thief his oven mitts
and mail him a belt)

your silence will not save you from second bests
in paradox divide yourself into the hillside
and squint your right extropic eye
your depth perception intense and feral

everything alive moves.
when all else fails,
movement is proof that you are alive.

when you wake up a racing pulse
last night flashes a catharsis in remission
the future is bright and brief
and your cracked fortune cookie reads:
don't forget your sunglasses
in bed.