The All-Consuming Love Affair

The All-Consuming Love Affair

The all-seeing

All-consuming

Love affair.

Step right up to see the wonder of the

Disappearing Man

He couldn’t leave his demons behind

He couldn’t leave Her

And so

They ate him

He tried to run

But they hung on,

Barnacles to a pier,

Taking bite after bite

And as he shrank

He realized that they weren’t eating him

But his demons.

So, he cut them off.

Knowing that he’d grow back

Stronger

Healthier

Without.

And he could finally stop running.

Copyright Oren Peleg 2012 

Piecemeal

PIECEMEAL

I wake but keep my eyes closed

struggling to find a comfortable position.

I give up, and rise to make the bed,

converting it back to a couch.

I resolve to eat the fruit left in the fridge for breakfast

but end up with a bowl of cereal, instead.

I wander the outskirts of the internet for awhile,

then decide to visit the library.

I shuffle through the graphic novels,

then down to the oversized books

where I browse full-color plates of

Van Gogh, Kandinsky, and Patrick Heron.

I find a beautiful whimsy and magic in the

Blues, Greens, and Yellows of Van Gogh’s palate.

I have some emails to attend to,

But rather sit in the sun and read a comic picked from the stacks.

Later, I spend some time writing,

then make dinner.

I look up recipes for peasant bread

but I am missing several ingredients.

The day ends with a documentary

about Man’s trip to the Moon,

after which, I listen to the pulsing of Coltrane.

Both offer a sense of awe and magic.

Copyright Oren Peleg 2012 

Our First Breakfast

Our First Breakfast

Our first breakfast together was at Choux Factory 

along 1st Avenue near 87th. 

You had a small coffee and decided against a brownie. 

I need my morning caffeine, first -- you said. 

I ordered a small green tea and a chocolate croissant. 

The morning felt cold and fresh, 

though I was still judging by LA standards. 

You mentioned that it was one of the 

last Beautiful Days of the season. 

We leaned across the table to kiss,

then you left for work, 

while I roamed the basement stacks at Strand. 

I picked up a book that said we over-estimate our talent 

and abilities 

because facing our flaws is too difficult. 

Only the Depressed are Realists. 

The place was crowded with hipsters from NYU 

who thought Sylvia Plath was the greatest thing. 

I got annoyed with them, and left 

to find leather boots for the encroaching winter. 

Nothing fit and everything was too expensive. 

Coming home, I got off the E line before my usual stop 

to pick up some Thai food. 

I spent the next few hours thinking about my eventual Death 

and what I should do beforehand. 

You text me to say that Bossa Nova wasn’t your thing, 

but that American Imperialism was, in fact, 

justified Exceptionalism. 

We made a few more jokes, then said goodnight.

Copyright Oren Peleg 2012

Ghost Town

GHOST TOWN

Sometimes I stop and the engine catches up

I remember the life I picked up too quick and fled

I left the cables, the nodes, hanging

Unhooked

Like those textbooks left strewn open

On the abandoned school desks of Chernobyl.

It is dead now.

The moments when I stop,

I feel myself begin to crumble,

And I hurry to hold it together,

But the pain lingers,

The mistakes still haunt.  

Copyright Oren Peleg 2012