I waited in the last hot rays of sunset,
inking little monsters in the margins
of my notebook, as the ice in my jellyjar
full of Old Crow melted quickly.
Another day, anonymous,
another page to fill with babble.
The valley's breath was scented
with the medicinal reek of junipers.
Like hers had often been,
gin-rickied and jolly
-before she left.
Some where down the hill,
an ice cream truck
piped that eternal jingle:
Turkey in the Straw.
Forever promising
grape popsicles
and purple tongues.
Like hers. Poking it out
and laughing before
she'd slip it in my mouth,
still chilled and sweet and sticky.
I watched a pair of vultures
spiral round each other,
shrink into specks,
then closed my eyes.
I felt a shadow on my face.
her, here, awaited. silent.
Hair gray and prison short now.
Tie-dyed harem pants
clinging to those
once familiar hips.
then stuck out a purple tongue.
No comments:
Post a Comment