AND, HINGES
Fog hanged over the park, the night cold, and, clean
against the tree you leaned in the sunlight, breathing
he spinned the car out on fine gravel near the gate
she laughing at the tree standing straggly over the fence.
And, the drain clogs, when I shower, with my hair,
queasily, paper rolling out of your handbag, glinting sequins,
and, she stood, laughing over her shoulder by the spinning
wheels
‟how do you get to the station, from here?”
Skin smelling clean, after the shower, and, dark,
merrily, tempting me to talk to you, and, asking if you’ve seen,
and, turning to her friend, tall, and, skinny next to her,
‟Taking the first turning you come to in the book, and curve
round it.” Warm moisture rising, I rise sluggishly,
the latest news from Paris, tho I’ve never been there, calm
‟he never could control the damn thing, and, thinks he’s Fangio.”
She knew better than to laugh, but she did anyway , laughing
hide behind a tree, and, light bark late, keeping the neighbors late,
and, you ask me ‟have you seen the latest news from Paris?”
Out back someone mugging laughter , and, he thought over the
problem
to bust her gut. ‟Did you see that turning the horse made
dog?”
Hours arranged handily on the wrist, I scrutinize them,
and, and tell you ‟I’ve never been there myself, have you?”
How to get back on the road, and, keeping his hands intact.
‟Absolutely splendor, the light on shimmering her hand.”
Hourly, and, after dinner they scrutinize me. ‟How we love,”
and, you answer, ‟yes, dozens of times.” I look at my watch
He’s such a bore. Always running around fast over the place.”
She knew better than to know know better than his local hands,
placed
filling mail order slips, out, sleeping afterward in the down,
and, you shiver, and, laugh, ‟it’s really terrible what’s happening!”
how it sounds in reverse. Scared, and, the hairs turning prematurely
gray, respectably, over the nearest sand mound in the pile
pillow I puff up with my hand before the light goes out
‟oh yes, I agree, would you care to join me for lunch,”
spun gravel rising under the wheels, and, him sitting. The clay
lump
she picked up some too, running it thru her veiled fingers
in the fireplace. And, you say ‟you are thirsty,” and, I believe,
and, you take my hand, handily switching your pursing lips
to the other side clinging higher under the screech, and, wheel.
And, she looked at him, blinking owlly back tears. And, they
came anyway, you, and, ‟I am thirsty too, for more dinner wine”
‟not having any money, but wanting to speak to you so much.”
‟Who? Who? Does he think he is? Anyway?”
She knew there was nothing to do but curve out the light ground
under her, and several more candles to warm the room. To the other
side of your mouth. ‟That’s okay, I love lunch in the park, anyhow.”
His phantom figure stalking shadow after shadow after dark.
And, cry til a little pool formed, and, she rose to go home.
STOP FOR
stop for
a minute
wait up
for this
friend to
tick off
its catching
breath and
draw parallel
like two
lines with
two el’s
the train
of thought
reaches the
station in
the Bronx
or Queens
the friends
get off
at and
walk out
of below
onto the
french tablecloth
of sun
in a
black and
white movie
in one
of those
theaters with
a sky
NOTE TO A DUMB FRIEND
how long’s it been
since we last spoke
there are infinitely less
bridges left
than last a lifetime
weather’s finally gotten nice
the sky in t-shirt
how’s yourself the kids
must be grown a lot
since I last saw them
has the job been working
out all right everything
’s pretty much the same
here, but a little better,
if that makes any sense
the sun’s on the scene
the tiniest random bolt
blocks away glows
despite rust windows
and brick take on a fire
you wouldn’t expect
this I’d miss if I was
n’t here that, and
dinner with friends
you haven’t been down
to see the apartment yet
—the one I share—so I
can only approximate the view
the rent is nothing in
comparison the state of
the nation, body politic
corrupt