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This thought has always haunted me.

People you meet once
and never again in your life.

You have a static picture in your mind
of their face
the small conversation
their little story they tell you
the place you met them
in a bus, a shop, on the road
interactions not long
but meaningfully small
yet leaving a memory in you.

I think of all those people
I stopped by to ask for time
seek direction of my destination
or asking where I might find
food or a resting place
in an unfamiliar area.

Once and just once you meet them.

On a summer trip, I was looking for icecream
in a strange place off the highway
walked ten minutes to find a shop
where for that brief encounter
the seller made me feel like
he had known me for long
shared the history of that area
the migration and culture of the residents
before helping me with the right icecream.

Sometimes I wonder
if they would have enriched my life
were they part of my association.

Not scholars, not rich, but simple men
who bring you down to earth
and carve a space in your mindscape.

Sadly you meet them once in your life.

I feel it's so designed.
here it is warm
but the company
colder than
white
trying
subtly
to differentiate
from one
or the other

a blip
on intuition
wasted
and desperate

she reaches
deep
into her womb
grabbing
squeezing
spongy tissue
aborting all emotion

expelling all
that was lost
the first time
she called
your name

you never heard
her voice
blank
silent
ignorance
did you ever love
her silent words


she allowed
you to push
inside
deep
pleasure
mistaken for love

gliding
thrusting
grunting
moaning

***

contracting
throbb­ing
spurting
dripping
screaming

crying

bleeding
incision
decision
circumcision

birthing
It always starts this way...
you fold a paper airplane
throw it up...watch it fly...swoop
only to crash
"Its like love" he said
turning over in bed
the next time he spoke
he asked for money

"Its like love" I thought...as 
I walked out the door
thinking...nothing is ever like love...
what good is it to compare
what you want....and what is
"nog eentje" I say...and sip beer quickly
it's always so dark over here

one foot then the other...
keep...counting as you...make your...way
across tracks and cobbles
through crowds and rain
one drink too many.....but always too few
a separate issue now
no longer love in question
just lust and hunger for release

"are you alone now" he said
"no...I'm with you"
He reaches for my hand...
I'm reaching for my drink...
we collide and....glass smashes 
to the floor....bleeds red wine

a calm feeling now....after kissing and ***
the smell soothes...yet...creates confusion
an odour of such delight makes one feel...
feel so filthy...."its a necessary evil" he said
and as i close the last shirt button
I say "believe me...it has nothing to do with heaven"
 Mar 6 Geof Spavins
Karen
Purple crocuses 
In the light,
Striking to the eyes .
The first to bloom ,
Petals of hope ,
Rebirth ,
Sweet nature.
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