The trees hang heavy,
leaf heavy sweat heavy
the lone star sun eats the sidewalk
crossing and re-crossing intersecting lines
that always meet in the wrong place.
There is no “you”,
no gallon hatted, boot buckling, bourbon swigging
hunk of unknown man
come to rob me of my European blues;
just fleeting caricature
dark smile , closed hands
eyes bounced from airport lounge
to line dancing, hip grinding,,
one bar saloon.
As usual I don’t fit the offered shoe
smoked glass too soon
I hobble barefoot
in someone else’s parody.
Smell draws across a crowded room,
there’s no denying what you want
soft sure hands that hold secrets
want to own if only for an afternoon.
Like the best of your kind
I know the pleasures heavy scented
butterfly tongued with proficiency
leaving only a light hangover
by- passing recriminations.
The air sings grey constant cicada music
& for an envelope in time
I’ve left behind the known limits:
still there is no “you “, may never be
just strangers snatching snippets
where here, like everywhere
I sit and hum impatiently.