I looked for you under the barstool underneath my wine glass you were mine for one half hour
stolen by an oil-streaked man in an olive-colored suit pinky ring winking who molested you with his eyes
extracted you from the wedge of my pocket smoothed you out decoded you in the alley outlaw rhythm of my beating eyelashes
my bracelet trailed your shapely limbs as I transcribed you from the smoky air found you floating above the candles let you fall out of your gown
loser to the noise and clatter we are summoned to grace amidst flowering pots
you are the wink of an eye at midnight the end of a bumpy road is home at dusk the balmy air a shawl around your neck the streets that catered to your history the zipping of crickets the enchantment of the invisible green behind your house this is your home where skin sticks to skin sticks to everything black ovals on paper with curvy legs so the street lamp glows and black is the color of night so you are free here the railroad tracks reveal your moveable nature the sun rises in the hour of red and fantasy is a sliver of lemon sugared knuckles are guardians of hands living under bridges of skin the vigilante vein patrol that screams impact to a wall a hole in the afterbirth of jazz in the horn blows of the mad when your eyes left stains on your cheeks and necks were meant for kissing the rope is knotted a footstool is a sad friend realized