Designer Sunglasses


There were days

when my eyes would not adjust

to your brilliance.

I hid them behind designer sunglasses

and did my best to avoid your gaze.

You stood a full head taller

that everyone at every party.

you loved to be loved,

loved to be feared

and you certainly didn’t mind

being hated.


You could walk in

pretty much anywhere

and catch the eyes

of the well-to-do;

the entrepreneur

and the actress,

the playboy

and the politician.


There was always a grace about you.

A certainty,

that some called arrogance.

I knew that driving desire well,

I felt its heat,

it’s fire,

it’s fury

and the cold, dead hollow

of its absence.


You claimed the day was coming,

maybe spring,

maybe summer.

We travelled by train to New York,

but as always,

I fixated on the window and I knew,

as I watched the scenery fly by,

that we wouldn’t leave the city


One of us was going to die.


Your event schedule was full.

The nights were gala affairs

and cocktail parties

and gallery openings.

The finer things in life

never dulled your luminescence;

instead they reflected

and multiplied your fire

until you burned

like a morning star.


Always a wise word,

or a witty quip

to send the beautiful people

into peals of laughter,

or a patient ear,

sought out by the affluent

and afflicted.


We left each night

and my eyes dwelled

along the cityscape;

the streets,

the cars,

the hum of a living city;

one whose concrete skin

would know your blood.


I tried my best

to remember my First Aid training.

Bandaging a compound fracture,

immobilizing the neck and spine.

I called for help,

dialled 9-1-1,

screamed for someone,

anyone to come

and put this perfect creature

back together.


They came with lights

and sirens blaring,

so loud,

so long to wait.

They told me you died

in the ambulance,

succumbing to your injuries.


I was talking to the police,

but I wasn’t there at all,

I was injured,

mind in traction,

shocked by the speed

and the violence

and the devastating calm afterwards.


My heartbeats echoed.

My hands shoot horribly.

I couldn’t even feel the cold

of the steel

as they handcuffed me

and put me in a car.

I heard someone say I pushed you.

I thought you fell.

No one really knows,

because my eyes were always closed

when we were alone.


I couldn’t bear to look

at the monster you’d become.

That brilliant terrible.

Nightmare in a tailored suit.

You shone like a star,

like a fallen angel,

devil on my shoulder.

Now my eyes are free

to see the light again.


HG -2018

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