Come the clouds of the empty spaces— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
like snow drifting into my memories.
I feel that empty ache
and see faces that may now be
only photograph memories.
Love and aging and unfolding;
these flowers in our lives
that bloom with such passion
and fade so hard
against relentless time.
Chris at six, only once.
Every moment precious, unstoppable.
Blood and love, kinship there,
my soul divided.
See how it is…
We bet our lives so utterly
in the stories we’re weaving,
the beds where we sleep.
gallagher
25 Oct 85
Archive for October, 1985
1985-10-25
Friday, October 25th, 19851985-10-27 Monday Oct 27.85
Sunday, October 27th, 1985 Monday Oct 27.85
You're wrong Dennis; as tight as we are your
problems with Rose concern me too.
Your phone call last night disturbed me more than
anything said or done before. I understood and could
feel how hurt you were but it made me feel so shut out;
as if I didn't exist in your life at this point.
It sure put things into perspective. And it
raised a lot of questions.
I know it has already started me thinking about
being involved with a man who is so incredibly in love
with ex-wife. Do I really want to spend another,
three, six months whatever, at the mercy of another
woman's emotions. I'm already in limbo not knowing if
you're going to be here next month, fuck this. Cliche
as it may sound, I really don't need it.
I'm not and I have never asked you for anything
unreasonable, I'm not asking you for a commitment or to
predict the future; I'm not asking you to change your
life style, just a little respect and consideration;
I'm very much a part of this and you owe me an
explanation. I have become, thanks to you, a bit more
self-centered and calculating, so tell me where do I
stand in all this?
I really don't like any of it. You probably need
to collect your thoughts and feelings for a while; I'll
wait. Give me a call when you're ready to talk.
Lise
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
1985-10-27
Sunday, October 27th, 1985We talk into larger silences— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
survey the ruins with pessimism
and wait resigned
for more or less of the same.
Love distorted, a frozen taffy
in the cold water
of reality.
Strings of what was there, before
are now just memories
when we are alone with our pillows.
…addiction death.
gallagher
27 Oct 85