Chlorine Nights (Mark Ge)

Found this poem on the computer at home, thought I would share.

-Mark

Chlorine Nights

1.

The evening left a cold damp feeling on our wet napkins

Dog Park, sidewalk cafes, and the ruminations of walking around, all around the neighborhood

Where delicious people hang out by outside parking lots with amorphous stereos

Over at the top of the bread chain, our condo, swimming pool run by dry humping teenagers and their boyfriends withering chlorine

Dog food by choice (in between two pieces of sandwich bread)

No but seriously, Ian’s perturbed dreams of the American landscape at dawn

We all saw that day

While driving around in our shanty mobiles, trapped in our never ending glory

A dream car never thought I’d be able to ride in one

Or feel upwards underneath her lovely summer shirt

As each caress…oops her eyes just drooped…

I am at a point in my life where I can’t think of a single person I may call misses.

Just plain misses

Tough

We bleed through the city and turn our heads into piñatas

Under, under water

Live for forte

Crescendo, mezzo forte

Understand?   Do we mean business?  Do we mean to scare in our dreams?

I’m yours to

To molest, to feel, to caress

Up and down, an insane fortune, a fortune read and misread

Gravity’s hit, this one was

Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling

We fell at the edge of the cliff, at the edge of the cliff we looked up, we looked up!

2.

Great works of art hung in the gallery, Jesus got burnt

My sweet apartment well lit and non sufficient, proficient

Apartment bells ringing, terrific, the master bedroom occupied by a coffee clown

Mess of riversides, blinded by mud

Downpour the downpour came

Swept it to the shore, off towards the end and edge, turbulence

What edge?

My withering flowers

3.

China

 We all meant well, all of us including

Tattered rags, shifting

Under the street sidewalk, tunnel escape from

Is where they hid in cool summer shade

Away from the light, with hands protruded

Kaleidoscope, bug eyes

Big bug eyes

And each lion’s den filled with blood, dead meat

Bitten, the door closes

We sauntered, busses ran amuck while dialects filled the air with authenticity

We didn’t get to die

The light moth flutters on my patio, against the window, the screen door

While soccer players play it, should’ve been

The portrayals of us in this country, in America

Because of my admonition, the banishment, not quite

But my own doors closed

Uninvited mostly 

4.

Eerily silent, the wind

Non surplus

Darkness outside lit by moonlight, the sky filled

Everything fine

Underwater again, this time I’m more angelic

We drew cartoons onto screens that said

Please help, in every city different

We put wires underwater

Underwear, a man’s

I get to