On Her Sofa

I sink into her couch,
The one that I say has many gravities,
And G forces that pull me prone
Among pillows overstuffed to plumpness,
And in complaint to her I say, this couch
Kills ambition and demolishes all motivation,
As I sink and settle into the cushions
That half cradle but most fully embrace me.

And it is lying there lulled on her sofa,
That all responsibilities slip from me,
Like so much pocket change that spills
And falls between the cracks in the cushions,
And all my promises and good intentions
Close their eyes 
For a moment of rest
And then lapse into soft nothingness.


© 2006 Doug Tanoury

 
I Have Never Stopped

At this moment,
Somewhere in an alternate and parallel universe
There was no Big Bang
And I never stopped loving you,
The television is always on
With no one watching it,
And I am asleep, endlessly
Napping, on the sofa.

You are in the kitchen,
There is the sound of water running
In the sink and a pot clangs
Against the faucet
And in my dream I am still
Loving you and never
Fail to touch you as you pass.

There is a world 
An eternity away, 
It’s July and all the trees
Are in full foliage. I am sitting
On the front porch step
Watching the Sycamore in the yard
Across the street catch the sunset
Colors in its innermost reaches,

In a world where I still love you,
Where I have never stopped.


© 2006 Doug Tanoury

 
My Transitional Girlfriend

My transitional girlfriend
Is like alternating current
Changing directions and shifting polarity,
Constantly repositioning and altering on her axis
One moment I am the sinner
Another Saint
A liar now
Then an honest man
If I were Shakespeare 
I would write a long sonnet,
Outlining my grievance in words so sweet,
In phrases finely turned like wood on a lathe,
I would craft a poem of complaint,
A lament to inconstant love,
Its fickled nature,
Its winds of whimsy that blow willy-nilly
Over me 
Unwavering as the ground,
As constant as the sky,
Ever attentive to
My transitional girlfriend.


© 2006 Doug Tanoury

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