Fast Food of the Heart

A delicious possibility withdrawn as you turn away,
believing that you know me and have seen my true face.
The brief and fragile beginning lies in decay,
sacrificed to the 90’s god of expedience.
Messages exchanged by sweet and gentle hearts
spilling open, sit abandoned, captured by machines.
Hungry arms reaching for a promised moment
enclose themselves and rock the hope alone.

I stand as I was then, a photo, forever etched.
Questions answered without asking, meaning made with no exchange.
My rich complexity, fixed in your mind, refuses to grow.
I am consumed as is, fast food of the heart,
my trust and innocence the subject of a quick, decisive blow.
Touching the pain I reveal layers of old tracks
beneath the current ones laid down in sudden, sharp surprise.
Opportunities missed, dismissed.

While far below us moves a silent river, the pulsing blood of our true hearts.
Barely audible in moments, secretive, deep, watchful and afraid.
The true story lies here, ripe, begging to be eaten, aching to explode.
This is the conversation I await, daring to hope.
Not out there on the surface of things
where my insecurity masquerades as ease
and our past binds us in the shapes we see.
I am here, underground, a tender feast waiting for the taste of you.

6/7/98