"The secret of seeing is to sail on solar wind.Hone and spread your spirit ,till you yourself are a sail ,whetted , translucent, broadside to the merest puff."
next to a small plastic figure
of a soccer player, could be
from" Manchester United"
they all look alike under their shirts
without their slogans
they are mere plastic arms and muscular
He holds his plastic arms wide for a hug
but i only hold him near to my heart
sending a message of "I miss you"
to the child that had forgotten
his soccer playing doll at home
in bed with me.
The doll does not say "good morning"
or ask for a muffin or a cup of coffee
but he is silent as the rain falls outside
placing words of rain drops in his plastic
mouth, which will say what i want him to say
he depends on my decision today.
I can keep him or throw him away
to the ground where the small brown dog
will surely get him and chew on his muscular
plastic leggs or his handsome chiseled face.
I decide to leave him in the mess of blankets
as long as the small dog can not be found.
and open up the window so he can take
some fresh air in his plastic lungs.
I control his fate, as he lays on the blankets naked
at last a man i can play with and not be played with,
a man who not be hanging up the phone when i want to talk,
a man who will listen to me when i have something to say
but they say David Beckham has a need to be neat
but as he is lying here helpless in my piles of beddings
he realizes he is under my control and i can not be beat.
Is this the only relationship inwhich i may have some power ?
did i dream of spleandor in the green grass or of horror?
The rain is speaking of roses and trees ,
be real, the rain says,