A Couple
Two halves, him and her, and buses that
go places. Sidewalk sweet sweeping her
off her feet, being hand-in-hand;
A drizzling rain couldn’t dampen their moods.
Two hookers and an awkward pause -
stopping dead in her tracks, the dare becoming
inchoate. False bravado she genuinely
wanted to be true. And his charming, teasing laughter.
Together being the watchword now, stop only when
I end and you begin. The canopy of
imagined rain, holding on tightly
beneath the sheets, legs entwined, nothing apart.
Three is a crowd and time is irreversible.
Two tear-stained faces, unleashed demons,
huddled eventually under an umbrella,
his tongue on hers for the last time.
Two souls consumed by each other’s fire.
Better-poised next time to rise from the
ashes, a phoenix without wings. No myth, no legend,
just two people trying heartbreakingly to make it right.
March 6, 2007
12.26 a.m.
go places. Sidewalk sweet sweeping her
off her feet, being hand-in-hand;
A drizzling rain couldn’t dampen their moods.
Two hookers and an awkward pause -
stopping dead in her tracks, the dare becoming
inchoate. False bravado she genuinely
wanted to be true. And his charming, teasing laughter.
Together being the watchword now, stop only when
I end and you begin. The canopy of
imagined rain, holding on tightly
beneath the sheets, legs entwined, nothing apart.
Three is a crowd and time is irreversible.
Two tear-stained faces, unleashed demons,
huddled eventually under an umbrella,
his tongue on hers for the last time.
Two souls consumed by each other’s fire.
Better-poised next time to rise from the
ashes, a phoenix without wings. No myth, no legend,
just two people trying heartbreakingly to make it right.
March 6, 2007
12.26 a.m.