~~Change~~

In grey
I remember
first seeing
you there-
dark glasses,
a scarf
in July-
how I wondered
then
and now I
understand
in a way
it's just you
and the way
that you are-
like the classic
comments
of
"Beat feet"
or
the way
that you'd
almost halting
smooth
shrug,
"works for me",
and your
cartoon-character
sadism;
the three-beat
laugh
I'll always
love.
In grey,
like old
ashes.

In red
I recall
meeting you
once again--
the 'shades
long gone,
eyes navy
fade forest--
I almost
didn't recognize you
without the
orange wrap
like a second skin
around your neck,
but it
was January then
and the weather
to you
didn't call for it.
You seemed
so more
somber then,
like the blood
was more
than clothing-
and still
it's the way
you are,
the laugh
changed to
sweet acid,
classic lines
replaced
by bitter retrospect.
In red,
like funeral
roses.

In black,
as I see you now,
a not-a-chance
meeting-
eyes emeralds
smouldering,
the cloth back
in tatters-
I wonder
again if
it's really you standing
here;
you who once
lounged
and munched
CocoCrispies
at the Saturday morning
sofa
like the five year old
you never could have been
but always
once were-
is that this
twisted soul
with the
knifewire
chuckle
and belladona
smile?
It's spring,
but that tease
has
no season,
the words
are the same
but your tone
winter empty,
no spirit left
as though it fled
through
your eyes
once uncovered,
and that sick
quirk
gone from
Disney to
something darker;
the pixeled
computer picture
of death.
It's you
but
in black:
Back
like old
ashes.


~(c)8/00 The Mad Poet (A.K.LaBelle)