Short Poems, Short Affair

All fucked-up
      and tender-hearted,
waiting for you to call

Long, open-hearted hours,
at the green bus stop,
      and in my dream-like room

I love you already,
I miss you
      even after one day

Real love is so simple
I don't have much to say about it,
      but I want to keep saying it

Confusing conversation -
you like me... but...
not ready right now?

All fucked-up
      and broken-hearted,
and wishing you were mine

I kissed you goodnight
I took that flower you gave me out of my pocket
I put your number back with all my other numbers


-JD

Spiderman Retires

I.

Spiderman retires
and takes up
watercolor painting
in the countryside
because he gets so tired
of all those tear-jerking moments
where his friend,
who was his enemy for a while,
dies after fighting off
the real bad guy,
who probably wasn't bad,
just misguided.


II.

Gandalf goes to therapy
and starts to realize
that the shadow of the past
is only a shadow,
and a ring is only a ring,
and even though he wishes
for a dramatic solution
to soothe his dark memories,
he starts to understand
that the best thing he could do
is live in the present,
and save Frodo and the other hobbits
a whole lot of trouble.


III.

Young Bruce Wayne
never becomes Batman
because some helpful social worker
realizes that Bruce just needs
to cry and cry
about his parent's death,
and explains that all his
dark fantasies of revenge
can never bring back
mom and dad.
Instead of growing up
to be a costumed vigilante,
Bruce becomes an artist.


-Jim DuBois

Mt. Tom (Sept 17, 2005)

Wandering in the remnants of time
the rotting tree trunks
the glacier-strewn rocks

Lost in the aftermath of the past
the decomposing leaves
the cracked basalt boulders

Even the new trees
root
in the bones
of their ancestors


-Jim

Stealing into your Heart (feb 28, 2005)

I wrote poems about love and longing,
I pined,
I schemed about ways to meet you,
planned what I would say
and how I might approach you.

It's all come to nothing so far.


Here's my latest plan:

You won't know me when I'm near,
because I will not notice you,
my eyes will glance over you to someone beyond,
I'll turn away,
look down,
keep walking,
but late at night
I'll return to my secret task:
digging a convoluted tunnel
to your heart,
bit by bit,
with a bent and rusty spoon
I stole from the cafe.

Any day now I'm sure to break through,
and stealthily enter
the chambers of your heart -
on tip-toe,
in socks,
breathing shallowly
and moving slowly.

I don't want to disturb anything,
I just want to see what it's like
to be in there.

Maybe I'd pause for a bit
and watch how you secretly
love the world
when you think no one else is around.

I might take a nap, too,
before I headed out,
because it would be so warm and comfortable.

The only things I'd leave behind
are a few tender kisses
in spots that wouldn't bother you
or disrupt your days,
a soft string guideline
to make finding my way back easier,
and a note
that said

  "Somebody loves you"


-Jim

Desire

Sometimes desire is so simple:

wanting to go walk around
in the fading light.


-JD

More Hobbies of an Unemployed Poet (May 21, 2005)

I guess I'm
collecting feathers
again

And aimless moments.


Wandering in the lost places
again

like the hillside below the abandoned state hospital
and the broad empty lawns of Amherst College.


-Jim

Unknown and Unfinished (July 31, 2001)

I was lost.

Unknown and unfinished,
I sat in the parking lot
while the rain threatened to fall
and finally did.


-Jim