THE WOMAN I'M IN LOVE WITH NAKED DEEP IN AUTUMN LEAVES

As I look through the lens
Searching for
The right reflection of light
To illuminate
The shape of her face
A leaf falls upon her
The moment is perfect
I take her picture
As she swoons in the devotion
I lavish upon her
Demurely modest and yet
Yearning to be revealed
As the secrets
Of all women's souls are

They're not really secrets
Meant to be kept hidden forever
They're more like treasures
Waiting for the right man
To uncover their pleasure
Hoping it is him to whom
She can finally surrender
All the dreams
She held as a child

I took picture after picture
Trying to capture the feeling I had
When I first saw her
The mood of her face
The look in her eyes
That made it impossible
For me to stop thinking about her

No matter how many pictures
I take of her
I just can't capture
Her elusive essence
She takes pleasure in this
Knowing
She gives herself fully
And yet
Can't be caught
But it isn't because she withholds
It is simply that her secrets
Have no end

The pretense of distance
Brings us closer
Her beauty
Only becomes more clear
Ironic, I know
But that's the way it is
When you touch perfection
For the first time
Capture just the right look
A moment frozen in time
To be found one day
By a curious seeker rummaging
Through a cedar chest
On a rainy day
Touching the past
And making it real
Like those old black and white
Photographs of hard western people
With grim looks on their faces

You just can't capture
Something like that anymore
Mostly because our faces look soft
Fed on the breast of prosperity
Lacking in the nobility of Red Cloud
A real man who fought for real land
And not just some stupid facts to remember
In our modern history courses
As we look back across
The passages of time
Content with our greatness
Now that we have subdued
The primal forces of nature
So we can gloat and slap
Each other on the back
As we tell ourselves
What great salesmen we are
Now that we have conquered it all
Now that everything has been sold
Who will write our story
When so many have already been told
By a few great artists and salesmen
Who seek to sell what little is left
To the generations of the future?

The past isn't just something
To pass the time away
It is as much a part of us
As their past was a part of them
In the way it shaped them
Made them who they were

I regain my focus
She is still there
Laying ever so sensuously
Uncovered in the leaves
As only she can

I put the camera down
Take off my clothes
And dive into the leaves
For the one thing that is real
The taste of her flesh
The feel of her desire
The warmth of her skin
Welcoming mine