Anticipation

I wrote this poem for a friend  I care about deeply; always have, always will. I'll never tell her this is about her because that makes it too damn obvious.


Anticipaton is a set up--
Movement and contact
dress themselves as jesters.

Anticipation is:
A flaw in the Nuclear Lady
and fleeting--

Cancer.

Building lofts to watch
the universe through roof shingles,
through cold winters;
the skylight of grand eternity--

Watermelon deliveries to cafes,
coffee and smokes,
friends new and old.

Anticipation is:
a freckle on your palm--
A letter of acceptance
in a bath of rejection.

The sun parting rain swollen clouds
and the birth of new grass sprouts--
Interest in notoriously mistimed interests.
Unsure of confidence in youth.

Anticipation is:
a blank slate absent of cliche,
world halting put downs,
and slowed momentum.

Hair running over the feminine figure;
the driving sprawl of America, down and out.

Anticipation is a surprise to reality--
Anticipation is expecting what happens next.

To anticipate anticipating anticipation--
Now, that is living safe.