Brando Wasn't It Poem by The Poet SPIEL

you are not too old
to remember
and yeah the two of you
in front of a huge stucco house
just like that one on camera
and yeah the flash
of that young pouty face
could be brando
because you were just the right age
back then
and hanging out in the right places
and knew all the right people
and you were one of the rarest
of his few
weren't you?
but it seems like you had blond hair
when you ripped your teeth
into the hair of his breasts

then with the most sensitive side
of your tongue skidded downwards
thru his brittle garden
to his birthingplace
and into that rich black mass—
that waterfront forest so dense
not even the sparkle
of your eyes could shine
but you could bite there
to tear at it

then rise
with your teeth full of its crop
then force open the jut of his jaw
with your own bristled chin
to transplant his stuff
upon his hard tongue

just as the lens here and now
gives up the one glimpse
which allows you to believe
each time you replay it
of course it is brando
and maybe you did have blond hair
when you were there
just as you are here with him

now
ripping into him
now
and dripping

or
wait
might that blonde be james dean
with his teeth-bearing hair his jaw stubbled

so be it best that you loop it again and
over again drip-dribbling
as you are and over and no
you
are not too old…
and yeah …the two of you
…and that same stucco house…

…and that …same …pouty …face …