by Ben Aultman-Moore
The last day I saw
The woman I was sleeping with
She said something that brushed by me,
No more than ruffled my hair—
To myself I said, Only another wind
on an already windy day.
Correction: she is more girl than woman.
Always well done, for the theatre,
a hike in wet woods, hair metal band,
symphony-orchestra, dim-dining, etc.
All the things we did, gumming us together
like glitter glue. She said, you’ve made me
Want to do more with myself. I smiled
Mechanically. The breeze swept up
warning a tide; I saw nothing.
Only, I kissed her cheek, a well manicured
Cheek, and lay down to sleep,
Chin-deep in warm and drowsy arrogance.