Delilah (poem)

He was hell-your-eyed, and his gaze was all synapsy, pluggin’ deeply into the word’s troubles, ruffling pages of his L.A. Times, nevermind the sneezy “gitch” on his lap, the arc in his chair leaned him forward into the stars where he believed his Delilah was floating. He snapped his head away from the fit, like a dream full of balloons escapes from little hands all tickly from laughter, teeth of a wide maw turn to terror and sadness, the ’backy from his simmering pipe running brown beads down his chin ever distant from the kids’ cotton candy, pink and sloppy, marking a long thousand-mile jagged smile, not from joy, but to cover his agony, his chest quivering behind a thin wife-beater, hiding his lonely heart. Yet, it’s a perfect at 7:38 a.m. and few seconds ticking by, during a call to his New York pal, on which to recall his long-lost love, while sticking a fork into a syrupy, sticky pancake morning. It’s a moment so fleeting, like the sand from the Santa Monica boardwalk running out from desperate fingers, like the man leaning his head out the open window of a black convertible Jaguar on the prowl, like the woman wearing a pink baby T-shirt and red spike heels poking fun at herself, that feeling of sunshine on touristy shoulders never lingers, never long enough. His red-eyed puffy face now waits for the curtains to close on a purple hazy, glazy, beach house day. A lonely wine sipping night, and finally her ghost sitting on a dusty bedroom shelf tells him it’ll be alright. A single tear blurs the moonlight.

Published by: frankmarquezwritings

I'm a writer, and have been for most of my adult life. Without making this sound like a resume, I wrote creatively in college, dabbling in poetry, short stories and play writing. Later, I became a journalist, public affairs specialist, copy editor and eventually a guy who ran his own newspaper. Now, I'm back to letting my imagination run wild in some new creations including a science-fiction novel. Somehow, I also managed to teach English to high school kids, and roam the battlefields of Afghanistan as a field historian. Field historian may be a misnomer considering all I did was write abstracts summarizing military unit profiles and missions that included hundreds of interviews of troops and contractors in combat. I grew up in a small town called Gering, Nebraska, before escaping to Pomona, California, where I spent my last two years of high school, graduating from Ganesha High School in 1983. I have a Bachelors in English from the University of La Verne (1987), and a Masters in Education from UNLV (2007). In between, I worked for government - the Army and TSA. I served tours in Panama, D.C., and Tokyo, all thanks to a teacher who encouraged me to see the world before I settled down. As hobbies, I run, hike and bicycle long distances. I have also been known to surf and ski. I now live in my hometown after moving back in June 2015. I get to see family on a regular basis, breath fresh air, and not have to ride the D.C. metro or get stuck in traffic. In fact, I ride my bicycle whenever I can. I'm happily married to my wife Lisa, and we watch over a pack of fur babies, our dog Charley, and three cats Spike, Bootsy, and Franky (his shelter name). If you should ever visit me in west Nebraska, be prepared to feast your eyes on paradise.

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