It has been awhile, <br />nothing comes out <br />Nothing wants to come out <br />The pen is dry <br />the paper is hospital white <br />I don’t miss it <br />Don’t think about <br />All those infinite nights <br />when I was young <br />and hungry and lonely <br />and high as a paper kite <br />Wide awake at dawn <br />listening to Miles <br />play 1959 over again <br />Smoking to ride the smoke rings <br />Catching words like <br />butterflies floating over flowers <br />Singing like how the <br />nuns thought me so very long ago <br />While a young woman <br />almost 20 slept naked in my bed <br />Surround by three cats purring <br />under a faded glow <br />of a fat copper moon <br />glistening on her long <br />apple scented black hair <br />Caressing her pear shaped breast <br />While I licked blank paper with my pen <br />Word after word rolled <br />off so easy <br />And then again <br />every thing came easy <br />20 years ago <br />before it sailed away <br />without saying much <br />and so it stopped <br />and I don’t miss it, <br />don’t think about it <br />until just now…<br /><br />Charles Lara<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/too-far-gone/
