For Kathi K— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
And what of you, Kathi … that the season buries you
beneath our mismatched fears … understanding turned to scorn
I can’t blame you, no, I can’t …
Winter whispers around my door … ‘truth wasn’t enough’.
but then mine wasn’t love … at least, not like yours …
you were right about so many things
I still can’t find out why it didn’t rhyme
You had everything I could’ve wanted
I keep remembering you said it … and you are fine
I can remember talking to you … you could make me high.
Your passion was the best of everyone I’ve known
with your flame we both could fly …
we laughed … the waitress thought us newlyweds
My friend, I love you as my friend, my lover
but I can see as clearly as the next
this time you’ve made up your mind
and my world will be much the emptier
and its such small consolation … that I never lied.
gallagher
Long Beach
12-05-78
Archive for the ‘1978’ Category
1978-12-05 For Kathi K
Tuesday, December 5th, 19781978-12-05
Tuesday, December 5th, 1978Got thoughts of her running thru my head— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
I remember when … I remember what we said
I remember, all my feeling’s not dead
Even in the mountains lost in another’s love
I could remember places we shared, the years that we lived
it seems these days I’m thinking more of her
and how we used to share our lives.
I think of my son growing strong
and I wonder how long he’ll be good when I’m gone
Maybe my memory plays, leading me back again
I don’t know … maybe the winter’s just too cold
In a secret place, it never fails me
I feel a trace of all our love could know
and how little any of these others have come to show.
gallagher
5 dec 78
1978-12-10
Sunday, December 10th, 1978Shadow weekend, Berkeley and San Fransisco.— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
Helen and feelings and emptiness
torn fabric from another cloth
we could touch and talk but there was something gone between
I reached across to where she was…eyes of love
but the distance was much too far.
Her world comes apart every two weeks
and she’s here and I’m there…
“Doctor my eyes” by Jackson Browne played
and I told her I felt like that … I see too clear
its something about my ability to emphasize, to see
that is what she needs so badly
‘Touch me with some reality beyond these labels and acts,
beyond the ache of acute insanities and those screaming doubts
about the future and relief.’, her eyes say.
I can, I care … but it costs me some deep ache,
some transference … some ultimate barrier beyond which
my empathy and her haunted eyes cannot … cannot go.
As the jet rose I took my peace and understanding back…
it can only be given as token…
the abyss waits on all of us in various degrees my sister
good luck to you… what else can I say….?
gallagher
10 dec 78
– upon leaving SF and visiting helen
o’flarity