in the charmed narrative

in the charmed narrative:
the blondes become action figures
the robot chicks are japanese
my days accumulate their longing
and I see you different than you once
were in the shadows of my memory

can you find the melody I am listening for?
the screen flickers with someone else's
movie but I am keeping track anyway
all facebooked and blogged in
ill repute the celebrities skin
taut from overuse or ill use or
no use at all just constant
recognition of that place between
each individuated organism call it
human for the sake of argument

it's an attempt
to not lose contact but the contact
is broken the bridge has been
flagged already as unsafe in each of her
or your reactions is that reaching
for the brake tap tap as days
hours weeks seconds chambering along
asking for their own page in the
great book the ink still wet
her page and your's and mine, even
all offsetting onto each other
no version of this life is more than
ragged memories edited by desire
and more importantly fear
fear telling us what we want
what happened when we were near
when you held my hand
that day at a basketball game
we were perhaps fifteen

if there were really magic
this would be a charmed narrative
in the mind's theatre I would
reach for your fingers and
feel the back of your hand
and you would feel
whatever you felt that day

this isn't desire then
so it must be fear
that time has learned is the
protaganist of all our lives
strange to confront this
so near the horizon
you'd a thought I'd have better
defenses see the hours soak
the winding sheet
see the wooden box burning
in the long dark night