Come back some day,
I yell onto the ruby sheet, the lake at sunset
We have some business between us.
The sound of her eyes batting,
as she lost herself in that painting,
for the first time in three weeks, with a chipped wine glass
almost falling from her hand,
was like cicadas screaming on low hills.
We sat in a Mexican restaurant, with sombreros
and vivid colorful masks sneering from the out-of-place
bricks. I wrote her a poem on a shred of napkin.
She said she would mail it back to me, finally, with her
additions and edits, once I got a permanent address.
Her hair is longer in pictures I've come across,
almost at shoulder-length, like the first time I met her.
We saw three movies in a row.
Only the first one mattered, the other two lost in that vast ebb
of lust. When I got home, I went up to the roof.
The gravel cut slightly into my feet. The wind became fierce as
I moved closer to the edge. I dropped my lit cigarette onto a
mob of pedestrians. I closed my eyes and saw a cat.
Perhaps it was beautiful.
Perhaps it hissed and snarled and bared it claws.
And the cat turned to smoke.
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Originally Posted by Macabre
