Crazy wild rivers
I mopped the ward abstractedly,
She came from behind
"You're the bass player aren't you",
Suddenly the floor is swimming
In a bucket of primordial soup,
And she's laughing.
Grinning like a cannibal
Flashing teeth and gums and tonsils
Flashing jewels of
One day after work,
Freed from a customary cow's tail,
Her hair fell into undulating masses of
crazy wild rivers,
Black as a night sky in the city.
She spoke in ebbs and breakers,
Shores of sensitivity and
Lonely in the lobby.
Dolled up like pretty corpses,
Lip-synching to assorted
Floating on the dead surface
Untainted by social graces.
"You're weird" she said,
Sensing and sharing that
Of being born
Too late for a parking space.
Later that year I saw her again
And skimmed a few bungled words in her direction.
They barely broke the surface of her reticence.
"Take care" she said,
And slipped onto a number 47.
Goodbye gloaming blitz,
Fierce and featureless
Night sky in the city,
I've never seen a soul so black
With the guts of wisdom.
"We're pieces from another puzzle" she said,
Tying her shoelaces,
Making a mockery of pedantry.