The Open Window


“I want to be a poet,”
said the super-famous film star,
gazing out the open window.
“You already are, aren’t you?”
I replied.
“I’m full of crap, Messina.
I lie to the world. I want to be like you:
a freewheeling comet in the sky
speaking truth without hesitation.”
“Ah, my super-famous film star,” I said.
"Ask any sailor where his trust lies,
and he’ll tell you it’s not in the fleeting trails of a comet,
but only with fixed stars, cemented in the heavens.
They’re the only things left that can be trusted.”
The super-famous film star turned to me,
kissed me on the forehead. Then my cheek.
Then my lips. My neck.
Then we fell back to the couch in perfect unison,
letting twenty-seven years of lies
fly right out the open window.


copyright 2002, Frank Messina

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