BORTLOUDER'S CAPTURED IMAGE. (STRONG LANGUAGE)

[dadio]

Bortlouder watches the passing women.
There amongst the passing throng one stands out
And his eyes follow her until she’s gone

From view. He sucks in the strands that remain
In his brain: the hair colour, the way her
Hips moved, the legs moving in slow motion,

The clothes she wore, the eyes gazing ahead
Not at him, blue, he thinks, not sure, and the

Imagined sweet perfume or was it real?
Uncertainty makes it stand and tries to
Dislodge the solidity of the dame’s

Caught image. He sits and sips the coffee
He’s bought, allowing the image to sink
In, letting it settle, making itself

Comfortable amongst other images
Trapped in mind and soul. The coffee is lush,
He sips some more. He filters the image

Of the woman again, picks out certain
Parts, the breasts, the way they almost fought to
Break free of her bra and dress. But did not.

He pulls a face of disappointment, her
Hands clutching a bag, yes, the fingers ringed,
Married no doubt, some other has her to

Love and kiss and fuck, while he must make do
With the image he has captured and stuck.

[joel]

Any weak old fuck can throw around a censorable word...so I know it's not a cuss that makes this, like so many of your poems, strong, dadio. It's the power of your images, the vigor of your descriptions, the courage of looking into a single moment and arranging its possibitlites into a living story, the strength of stepping into another's voice and thought and opinion: these are what make yours a strong language, right? I'm I getting it right, right? I hope so...because this is strong, and stands in good company from your keyboard. Thanks.

[dadio]

spot on, Joel. Thank you.

[joel]

cool...then I'll just proceed with that in mind when I see the (STRONG LANGUAGE) invitation. I really enjoy your trips into others' lives.

[judih]

concur
strong, deliberate ruminations
on a fantastic image

[dadio]

thank you, Judih.