Blind Date

I chased her down streets

Through chronic alleyways

Past come-hither byways

(like bittersweet chocolate treats).

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I searched for her

In the avenues of Memory

In the twisted yaws of History

In the writhing shapes of Fantasy

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I promised her

Ineluctable rewards

Infinite glories

Vast caverns of rapture.

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If I were

To capture

her

Would I change?

Would the abduction alter

The DNA of desire?

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Or would the tortuous journey

Itself

Unwrap the why.

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I always thought

that Why Not

held the graspless keys.

Why Not opened

Immensities

of lavish

ravishments.

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Why,

timid, lustless, lily-limbed why,

whining, crooked-legged Y

tempted me

Not.

*

Why Not, I queried her?

Why Not

Fold into my exuberance,

Tumble into the lap of my yearning.

*

I am learning

To blast.

At last.

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You will never find me,

bind me,

said she.

*

You will fail

We all fall down

Like ashes, ashes

Ringed around with posings.

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Failure is an

Other-than

An also ran

An Edsel man.

*

Success hid

among the rushes

of doubt.

*

Come out!

Come out!

Wherever you are.

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And she came

too late

the blind date

that came too late.

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Her name?

That dying flame

That crushed ember of

Lame acclaim

Absence of joyance

Instance of hindrance

Essence of silence.

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Her name

is Fame.

*

c. Corinne Whitaker 2014