when the troubadour...

to say goodbye
to your imaginary voice
your tender words
(that's how I dreamed them)
and your quickly vanishing bear hug
protecting me from myself
with your wisdom and agelessness

I am a troubadour, bound
to err from gardens to balconies
telling tales to children
chanting bittersweet melodies to lovers
the gods may envy my gentleness
I doubt that's appropriate to my cause
my soul is an ocean of verse
and you have never set your waves
upon my rhymes

this I have learned without you
and when my angry tears
overflow my common sense
I wonder that my wandering
could have given me a place
in center stage or in neon
and not merely in the dreams
of invisible people
equally dear to my heart


when the troubadour...
[2008.10.4...a]