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it's 9 o'clock and the room is filled
w/ stiff air, typical of a roomful of strangers
for the most part
eyes are tossed this way and that
in every direction, never lingering anywhere long enough
to disarm that peripheral edginess on our faces

better this way, this is an important meeting
these people are here seeking relevance, reason
a stage. we will share our fears soon enough
quell that insidious thirst for community, however
fleeting -- we're actors, we aim to live truthfully
in the imaginary landscape of our choosing

(this has all happened before, as it will most likely
happen again -- minds meeting, intellects toying
w/ each other, bodies touching, barely...)

and then
     yeah, you and your freckles
     enough of them to raise the bar and lift a wall
     into which i slam w/ all the speed of a lifetime
     spent in the vacuum of their absence

     as if you were made of a myriad dotted "I"'s
     but forgot the stems back home when you left
     or is it shafts? or trunks? or whatever
     it is obvious the dots are what's important
     irreplaceable, because each one is as unique
     as a snowflake, as if it were always glorious
     winter all over you and you're covered in

     so many of them yet not quite enough
     like all those points of interest on the map
     of your life -- one for each time your heart
     skipped a beat, or fluttered over someone

     in pairs, in threes, and quadrupled
     like a hundred thousand protesters against
     emptiness viewed from far above, forming
     small groups and crowding like rioters celebrating
     your skin, their world, my road, my
     neverending road into what is you

     one for every time i failed to see you, for
      all these days i never knew of you, of this
      wondrous universe of freckles in every shape,
      form & color... well okay, maybe not color,
      but you know what i mean

     in every nook and cranny of you, just as
     there were - at least one - on every friend
     that's OD'd, every lover that's squeezed a little
     too tight, everyone that has pushed, pulled, and
     whacked me in the direction i'm going

     because there are so many that we could
     build pyramids w/ them, monuments to our
     longing that will draw all like minded freckles
     into our fold to admire and ooooh, aaaaah
     for milenia to come, all the freckles like water-
     melon seeds we can use to build our own
     world in watermelon freckles like my life
     is now done in watermelon freckles of you

And we're only talking of the ones you can see
when you're fully dressed - imagine the possibilities
of those netherfreckles that sustain your mysteries
my yearning, our overlapping freckled futures

Pecas - spanish for freckles
as well as "you sin" in the present tense
pecas de corazón, pecas de medianoche, pecas de mujer
you sweet, sweet sin tracing a cartography of impossible
ways out of me and into you

it is one minute past 9 and your freckles have
rendered this oh so serious meeting pointless
useless, irrelevant in the grand scheme of things

your freckles are here
everything else is just parking

because there is nothing i wouldn't do
for just one of your freckles, now
i finally understand how a woman's body
w/out freckles is like the nightsky w/out stars