In those shorts, underneath a
blouse I bought her, she stayed crazy
like a loon while I waltzed her
backward thru the stations of the cross
Toward the next morning.
She was so damned good-looking
A guy could hardly stand
to be around her.
Down here on a mercy mission, she was.
On a sort of a memory cruise,
She wheeled by me all past lovers:
A book, the melodies, whiskey and a woman.
She had a form-free quality–
Liquid in a malleable vessel.
She could bend: Christ, she was flexible.
But with her tempered core,
she was always on her toes,
Even lying down.
I could have known her like
I’d never known another.
I should have fallen
in love and stayed fallen.
Instead, worrying, worrying about some-
thing still undefined,
I sing to strangers of a stranger
Disguised as me,
So powerful he stopped my ears
From hearing her ask her only task
To stay with me.