To truly know another

To truly know another
is to comprehend the breadth of the universe,
to perceive light
as it travels flightless from our sun.
It is to hear the voice of god,
to speak with dead brethren,
to defy gravity and move gracefully
through blue skies
sans the gift of man made flight apparatus.

I don't desire the fragment of a mind,
that small and inconsequential piece
of a vast and incomprehensible puzzle-
what is it worth, so pre-meditated,
to be given the thing that another places value on
by the judgement of the critical and ever probing public eye.

I wont settle for the shadow of a life
whilst pouring myself out,
(emptying my vessel of innards
into another's uncomprehending
and consequently ungrateful maw)
all those parts that make strangers squeamish;
the dirt the diamonds
the raw and rusty thumping bleeding ruptures,
the ingenuous softness
like something small, endearing and unnervingly honest,
the ghastly emotions and deplorable blanks
the empty empty blanks that leave us...

and the traitorous signs that blink bright fluorescent
turn away! turn away! turn away!  
All these rough rubbed parts of man,
the beautiful inglorious hideous
parts of man
lovable loving hateful hating
these small porous holes
and the great gaping places, which weep
constantly like ulcers and spread
if un-tended to.

I can only unzip
as far as the ragged metal teeth
of this flaccid reality allow,
and even then, even now
I'll keep the clasp above largely clawed
together.

It's not in my cards, this joker.
Freely giving love and receiving
equal rations.
I in my ignorance threw him out long ago
to reach the appropriate number of cards,
to cultivate the perfect hand.
Should have kept him in a quiet drawer
tucked away, private store,
but I threw him in the waste bin
and Ill see him
no more.