Back at the trail
I walked last week,
but now a jet-
haired woman
walks too, and the chaparral
floods into sea,
turtles with moss-
covered backs
swim, I strip,
ask her to enter,
and we dip
*
I sit up, tend
to flea bites
and scratch
my terrier's
ear.
I never met
this woman
exactly, though
her hair I've liked
in one, her eyes
another. A dream
composite girl
my elusive piece
meal--I will always
see you only there.
No comments:
Post a Comment