Carol had a neo-plastic emotion that glowed <br />like a muzzled supernova <br />whenever you asked a question. <br />I have seen her pause for hours, <br />her unwrinkled brow wrestling <br />with the inexpressible conundrums- <br />language and existence. <br /> <br />Boris was most likely a double agent, <br />almost human in his invisible psyche, <br />but hard-core fiber on the outside. <br />Basically homeless, splitting his time <br />between winters in a crowded warehouse <br />on the East coast, <br />and summers posing in front of a fun-house parlor. <br />(Embarrassingly, birds sometimes nested <br />in the top of his hat) <br /> <br />If Carol and Boris had ever managed to meet, <br />could they have found eternal happiness <br />in that place, where touch <br />and the un-sayable <br />become mingled together? <br /> <br />Somehow I doubt it, for she <br />was all naive mid-western cowgirl; <br />and he, other-worldly sophisticate. <br />The in-law and logistical problems alone <br />may well have been <br />insurmountable. <br /> <br />He was too inflexible <br />in the arena of inter-personal relations, <br />and she was the eternal virgin; <br />there was no way <br />to intertwine their lives <br />into a single venue. <br /> <br />Life is lonely for the best of us, <br />but some are doomed <br />from the very start, <br />stuck in a revolving track mentality, <br />doomed to changeless subsistence.<br /><br />Patti Masterman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mannequins-i-have-known/
