Massage

I
It was so damn easy:
He thought he’d suffer
that nervous breakdown
all infantile lovers are prone to;
he didn’t have to guzzle down
gin at sleazy bars
& wear on his arms
the tattoos of loss & grief;
he didn’t have to call up
cellphone friends
to intimate his days of woe –
It was so damn easy
to take a walk in the park
& rest his body on the grass
in the deep splendor of the night…
Nothing is so mysterious, really,
for the world moves on indifferently:
The mornings after
shake off hangovers
with sweet smell of hot coffee –
indeed, nothing of that sort
that will make him scream
in dramatic flair
to forget like a metallic punk rock
the pretty bitch.

II
It was before daybreak
when he vacated the house
& the empty bed
to be warmed by the summer sun –
She had , after all, gone earlier.
In his mind
she was never there, anyway.
So he left nothing
& no one.

III
They say, everyone moves on.
That’s a universal law.
As if things never matter.
& memory is just a blank wall.
Somehow, there must be a better way
than lapsing into amnesia.

IV
Years later
they might cross paths
& realize
they were really complete strangers
as they had always feared.

V
Yes, after all
the secret tears
at the heart’s wailing wall,
he remembered
in Homeric fashion
the peppermint chocolate
at Starbucks.

VI
Passion is damn overrated,
he moaned.
In Israel, after a suicide bombing
things “quickly
return to normal”.

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