This Relative Ache

by Chris Patterson

I would throw pebbles at your
window to get you to come
down for one kiss tonight.

This desire pulls me like the
wobbly wheel of an adolescent's
go-kart, always careening to the left.

Your proximity is what's relative
to the rise and fall of this
desirous state,
ruling with an iron fist,
a revolution would be
needed to overthrow.

There are words whispered just
before a kiss, that should remain
rare and precious,
sparkling in the afternoon
light that suddenly reveals
a well of depth and
the intricacies of lace.

There is nowhere for it but
in the gallery,
hanging there
for the admiration and contemplation
that is the beauty of the moment,
relative only to itself.

The Author

I was born in Elmira, New York and moved around to all the hot spots of the automobile industry growing up. After graduating from Michigan State University, I worked in Chicago as a writer/producer and director of local television and radio commercials and marketing videos for local companies. In 1995, I opened a bagel shop in Hilton Head, South Carolina. When that closed in 1999, I went to work for Walt Disney Company. I currently am a training facilitator at the Disney Reservation Center. I enjoy writing poetry, especially for my family and friends. You can find me on Live Journal as cap_killer.