I waited for you in a pink Wonder Bra,
Black fishnet thigh highs, leopard thong,
Lacey white sun dress, denim overalls,
Peach kimono, leather teddy.
I waited on bearskin rugs by the fires
With brandy and chocolate cherries,
In sleepy airports near a lone guitarist,
At midnight bistros over-peppering my
Ostrich fettuccini, by ticket counters
Behind the slow talker, on pirate ships
Against the cannon.
I waited in friendly tourist towns by
Rubber alligator stands,
In dirty cities next to chalk outlines,
At dangerous intersections with
Ambiguous traffic lights,
In zig-zaggy tunnels where the lights
Kept flickering off,
Through the wide, unblinking eyes of
Abandonment, behind the bitten lower
Lip of impossibility.
Finally you arrived, slicking back your
Widow's peak raven hair, fingering your
Teeth with your own cold flesh as you
Had gone so long
Hungry.
You moved me into your dusty house,
Furniture covered in sheets, Prussian
Carpets rolled back.
You entered me in surprising fashions
By pure bee's wax candlelight and the
Splinters of the lavender moon through
Long scratches in the curtain.
I set the table for you, thick coffee and
Stale wedding cake.
In absolute silence through the cross of
Your arms, with a slow, amused smile
I cracked open your ribs
And I ate your bitter heart.
I was despondent, not because you had
Changed me into such a savage, but
Because you could not remain conscious
Long enough to watch me eat the last icy
Sliver.
Not unexpected, your heart tasted
Like chicken
Shit.
I have walked in your shoes and one day
You will too
On this street that disintegrates your face
Plundered equally by monster trucks,
Tinsel draped elephants, tractors, lone
Black dogs with red bandanas on their
Necks, obediently purring Porsches,
Hitchhikers in the rain with down turned
Thumbs.
This scenery is as barren as
What remains of my heart, miles of neon
Red earth, the zig-zaggy cobblestone
Road peppered with bent cobalt willows,
Stagnant, glassy pewter lakes, dark
Abandoned houses with broken windows.
How I wanted
To see your unshaven face over coffee.
I dreamed of the smile in your eyes
The warmth of your cheek on my shoulder
Your rhythmic fingers trembling like the last
Tenacious leaves of fall.
In the beds of men without names, I let the
Most disgusting things come
Out of my mouth and in.
I pose spread eagle from behind, turn back
To say I see you seeing me.
I grunt and scratch and bite my lower lip.
I make them pinch my nipples hard.
I mount backwards and ride their faces
Like Sugar, the mechanical bull at the
Rodeo bar where you first said my name
My real name.
I wept to see the ring you were putting on
My finger, the way the stones trapped the
Colors of the emerald waves, and lavender
Moon. I gasped to see the stars sputter
Out when you switch off the electricity
And closed down the set.
You looked so small when you climbed
Down from the canvas chair, your voice
So uncertain without the megaphone.
You sent a stage hand to tell me I was
All wrong for the part.
Sleeper agent waiting for the signal,
Controlling everything, cupping my face
In your hands for the fairest angle.
"That's it, baby, give me all you've got!"
I didn't notice the raveling threads of me.
You knotted them irretrievably even
Though you had no use for them.
Enemy Divine, catalyst, dark angel,
I sewed razors in your shoes
And one day when you are certain
The spell is broken
You will walk this road
And think of me, my Sweet
When you do.
Outside your wreathed door I wither
Fogging the lancet window with my breath.
You raise a gold monogrammed brandy glass.
Twice today the gun has twitched in your hand.
Don't speak, prowl to the hexagon sky light.
I long to see your slumped shadow tremble.
I circle you, sharp, unforgiving sun
Until I see your eyes and behind them.
Your hypnotic pocket watch ticks telltale.
I walked barefoot to say I won't return.
My pale wrist holds a terrible secret,
We hold common this tantalizing burn.
He was a spy, I tell you!
Asking every question twice
Taking notes, cross examining
Always trying to trip me up.
"Tell me again about the
Australian you almost married."
"Aha! Holes in your story!"
Allow me to assure you there
Were no inconsistencies in the
Misinformation I provided.
I had memorized every detail
Of that life and recited every
Molecule of that dossier in
A cold, cement room with a
Rougher inquisitor, half starved.
Even so, in the end, he did
Take back the scallop sea shell
Ring, convinced his suspicions
Were the result of his confusing
Indoctrination to sexual feelings
By his lusty pathological child
Beater of a mother, certain he
Was simply damaged goods
And I was above reproach, the
Woman of the file in which I was
So tightly wrapped.
As you have long suspected
I never left your house
I haunt your bed
I know you know
I feel you feel me
I walk through you
Everywhere you go
So easy now
Ghost to ghost
You in the canopy
Oaks of Tallahassee
Me on the emerald
Coast.
In a parallel universe
Your carriage comes
For me
And your unblinking
Eyes finger my
Lacey gown.
"Every molecule of you
Is mine," you whisper
Panting.
"All of your tomorrows
Are inside me." I confess.
I take you in my mouth
Tearing my beaded veil
My hair unwinding from a
Tight French twist.
I swallow every drop of
You and lick for more.
We love like this for
Thirty-one mesmeric years
Or
Before the first anniversary
Both of us cunning, impulsive
Destructive, genius
Each of us loving a good
Riddle,
An apparent murder-suicide
With one missing body
A lipstick scrawled letter
Brilliantly worded with the
Most bizarre poetic clue.
We may never know.
When does that license
expire?
Even today I blush at how I worshipped,
Learned to love being spread out on my knees.
You gave me everything I could not ask for
And nothing on my list of basic needs.
You washed up starving on the Gulf of Mexico
Your unblinking eyes fingering my blouse
In a thatched roof bar where the next James Taylor
Dabbled in the old Fire and Rain.
We left our remote sugar island
For a house of shadows on a dead end street
But my name never got on your mailbox
Your initial never added to my monogram.
I put my unworn mermaid cut gown on
Consignment and went sailing with a once
Platonic friend.
So deep we saw the curve of the earth,
So far we had to consult the stars
To get back home.
Everything old is new again.
We plant belladonna and tiger lilies
In the window box, talk about the
Fragile needs of flowers
And joke about your fancy silver car
Once in our driveway.
He vomits again on a lime chessboard floor
Soiling his indigo hospital scrubs, aggravating
His football ruined knees, sober enough to feel
The metal pin in his arm from the accident.
One court order, one coma, one suicide attempt
His third try at getting clean. Barring religion
To whom does one pray in the darkest hour?
Sub-genius IQ, master's degree, the Greek god,
Hermes comes to mind. Hermes, the god of
Erections and thieves. He misses compulsively
Ironed crisp white shirts, onyx and diamond
Cufflinks, super bowl ring, gold monogrammed
Brandy sifters, the obedient purr of his silver
Boxter, the lullaby of a woman's somnolent
Breathing, any woman, casual relationships,
Prostitutes, strangers from bars, strangers having
The edge, the hint of mystery on the hesitant lips,
Secrets on the verge of disclosure, impenetrable
Eyes. He misses the thrill of his mother's enthusiastic
Disapproval, the family feel of happy hour at the
Local Irish pub, the bleached blonde woman from
Work with too much mascara and too little self
Esteem. He figures his odds a good fifty-fifty, the
Best so far, worries about the sober self he
Abandoned thirty-one years ago, the little things that
Were unbearable, the bump of strangers' flesh in
Crowds, the mind numbing crawl of the work bread
Hour, endless details people tell about their boring
Lives, the sound of barking dogs, the ambivalent stare
Of cats, the audacity of tiger lilies in window boxes
Dying of inattention, rotting right under one's nose,
The bubbling sound of aquariums, the icy wind
Fingering the collar of one's sweater. He dwells on his
Most recent love at first sight, a sweet thing he met on
Holiday, eternity band, mermaid cut bridal gown,
Mesmeric introduction to anal sex, all in seven days.
For her, he went briefly, tragically sober, cold turkey.
He remembers the look of loathing as he asked for the
Ring, the same look of disgust in the reflection on the
Stained glass lancet window, the frightful feel of being
Known. He never knew a woman to pack a car so fast,
Having seen more than his fair share of luggage fly.
Hysterical, she took his meat grinder and all of his navy
Socks, left her makeup and all of her shoes.
She.
His mind still insists on using the feminine.
Memories have been stolen selectively, mercifully, the
Brazen clues so easily washed down. This is what will
Be missed, the delicious blur of things, the lifting of
One's arms to fly on the discovery that brittle rules are
Just a dream and happiness is
The stripping of clothes in a forest of razors, the emptying of
Pockets on a runaway train, the gentle company of thieves
Beneath the trap door.