She could see the way
things were interconnected.
The circus rings, the wheels,
The bowls and glasses,
The bottles and crowns,
The rings, orbs and globes,
He thought of body parts,
The tits, the round ass,
The nipples, the circle made by her lips.
“Sex ruins everything”, he said.
“You’re so right, it does!” she agreed.
“That’s why I’m glad we’ve moved on.
Now we can have something better.”
She wanted a gramophone,
To play old vinyl records of Mozart,
With the amphitheaters, the coliseums,
The bubbles, the dew drops,
The movement of water and
He knew she was right,
In love, out of love,
Not the way he wanted to be loved,
But neither was it the end.
Their love had come full circle.
MR Stuik 2018
Riding bicycles in the rain in Lucca.
Had to buy some gloves,
It’s cold in November.
Round the top of the wall
That hugs the city.
The walls they refused to part with.
Loyal to them to the end.
They laughed and remembered
the joy of riding bikes as children.
Out on your own,
Into town with the dog
Or hitching a ride on a friend’s bike.
Balancing and not falling.
They had fallen in love
And then out of love.
And here they were on the walls
of Lucca in winter’s embrace.
Friends to the end.
The first done was
that holiday done.
He said something stupid,
and she let him have it.
“What? We’re done.”
The second done
came in the laundry room,
in a nasty exchange
where he said,
“You’re so fucking miserable. Why?”
To which she replied,
“Fuck you. We’re done.”
The third done
came on the dance floor in Mexico.
She wanted to dance, they just flew in.
He wanted to go to the hotel room
and have sex.
She stormed back to the room.
Made him sleep on the couch.
In the middle of the night he came to bed,
As he was going down on her,
she stopped him, waved her finger and said,
“Last time, we’re done.”
The fourth done came on
a balcony in Madrid.
He held her from behind
and she felt it turn off for him.
Like a light switch.
She didn’t say a word.
It was a silent, but deadly done.
The fifth done came
when they met back in New York.
It was brief,
she gave him a peck on the cheek,
they had lunch and she left.
He said, “I know, we’re done.
“Still love you though.”
The sixth done came
as he was writing his book in the desert.
She called him and told him
that she was packing her things.
Her mother rented a huge shipping container
and they took absolutely everything.
He came home to an empty house,
with his new boots that book money had bought.
“It’s my turn” he said to the squirrel,
(who had returned, hoping for some almonds.)
“To be done.”
Got all gussied up.
Because, let’s face it,
you only have one chance
to make a 4th impression.
Because the first never goes as planned.
The second, you have more latitude,
but it could be just infatuation.
The third, well, who cares by then?
It’s the 4th that really makes or breaks it.
Max wore his blue suit
with the silk Deco tie.
And those shoes he bought
He reasoned, “What have I got to lose?”
She thought, “Hmm…he’s a clothes horse. I can work with that.”
“I was in the kitchen
and he was sitting at the counter.
He looked at me and smiled.
He said and I’m not kidding,
‘If I were to ask God
to create the ideal woman,
intelligence and talent,
He could not do better than you.”
“It melted my heart”, she said.
“I just went to him and kissed him.”
“I don’t know what to say, I said.”
‘Don’t say anything.’ he replied.
You don’t have to say anything,’
Her ex Max shook his head,
He’s a smooth operator, that guy.”
Max leaned in and
Just below her ear
on the nape of her neck.
There was something about
the way she smelled.
It wasn’t perfume or essential oils.
It was her.
Like distant lilacs
like before a fall rain.
It was almost ancient,
Archetypal, was it pheromones?
It transcended lifetimes.
It was encoded in his neurons,
Did everyone notice that about her?
“What are you doing?” Ophelia asked.
“I need a shower, I know.”
“No” said Max, “I love the way you smell.”
“Idiot.” she said pushing him playfully away.
It was a little after midnight
when it started.
First on the left cheek
on the inside of the crack.
A really inopportune time,
as he was in the middle of a date
that was going rather well, for once.
But it just kept getting worse.
He tried standing and
“I have to use the little boy’s room.” Max said.
“Hurry back,” she replied,
“ I need to tell you something.”
Blowing him an air kiss.
He bit his lower lip and
practically ran to the bathroom.
The men’s room door was locked.
He couldn’t wait and
stepped into a closet,
pulled down his pants
and started itching like
a violin player.
a waiter opened the closet door.
And there he was
hand in the cookie jar,
forever frozen in time.
When the marriage ended
Max was away writing a book about the endocrine system.
By the time he got back,
Ophelia and her mother had already packed
a massive steel shipping container full of all their stuff.
He was left with virtually nothing.
She gave him 3 forks, 3 chipped bowls,
and a set of green plates that she didn’t like.
After that, she would drop by periodically
to take something else.
Like picking treats off a carcass.
One time she showed up unannounced
and took most of the rose bush.
“I took a course in roses” she said,
“I can propagate these.”
Then she came by again
and took two huge pieces of the cactus.
“I found a great recipe.”
A third time, she went into his closet
and took all of his silk underwear
(a gift from her mother on his birthday).
“My mother needs these back.
She’s making Romulus and Remus
little outfits. You don’t mind do you?
It’s not like you ever wear them.”
MR Stuik 2018
It flew off the wheel
on 7th Avenue.
She was a French woman, very sweet.
It cut her rather badly.
Her shin was bleeding.
Alex, Yevgeny, and Max puled over.
Alex jumped out of the car.
“I’m so sorry!” said Alex.
“It’s not your fault.”
“What’s your name?”
“Genevieve, you need to go to the hospital.
can we take you?”
“Yes, s’il vous plaît.” she was beginning to feel faint.
They drove like Banshees
to Saint Vincent Hospital.
“Should we wait for you?”
Harlie, the AI was acting funny.
Like some hacker had
slipped him some digital windowpane.
You could tell by
the benignly sinister comments,
and teeth grinding.
(Teeth of solid steel, mind you.)
“What if we can’t get him back?” asked Max
“I knew this guy at boarding school,
he dropped acid and was never the same,
total psychotic break.”
“Bird flu must have been a cover,” said Harlie.
“Feed the signal” he added cryptically.