Two Poems by Curtis Dunlap

can you separate me from your poetry?

…she asked.
i stumble, mentally…
unable to comprehend the question,
my brain working frantically
to process an answer…

can you separate
the moon
from the ocean tides?

can you separate
a falling star
from a wish?

can you separate
the honey bee
from a blossom?

can you separate
a baby
from its mother’s breast?

she walks into the room
and i see
poetry

i hear sonnets, sestinas,
quatrains
in her soothing voice

her eyes
are pools
of haiku

she asked
can you separate me from your poetry?

and i feel like a computer
that’s been mind fucked
by Captain Kirk

____________

The Voice Inside Buzz Tulley’s Head

It’s her.
Grocery store manager now.
Maybe she’ll remember me.
Three decades is not that long.
Maybe she’ll remember
that kick-ass weed we smoked
after band practice the night
I drove her home.
Maybe she’ll remember
how we giggled uncontrollably
when we both had
the munchies.

Maybe she’ll remember
the ice cream truck
we saw near
this grocery store,
how I gunned my Camaro
down side streets
determined to catch
that ice cream truck.
Maybe she’ll remember
how I caught-up
to that ice cream truck
at the intersection
near the police station.
Maybe she’ll remember
how that ice cream truck
morphed into
an 18 wheeler right
before our eyes, the way
that truck driver
looked at us before
he flipped us off.
Maybe she’ll remember
how we laughed
’til we cried…

Yeah, man,
that was some wicked weed.

Look at her,
over there working
in the frozen foods’ aisle,
still beautiful.

Good Lord!
Think of all
the ice cream
we could have now!

Maybe we’re still tripping
from that last joint
we smoked.
Maybe
we’re still chasing
that ice cream truck.