She paid for the ritual
tossing the cards
shuffling twice,
fooling chance
the game.
She paid for the dance
call her Ms. Window,
that rose you’d like to coffeebreak with,
an Annie you’d ask to drive you home,
a dancer you’d steal quarters for
so she could phone up her mother–
mercy!
Nah, better drawn blinds…
You live on a river
pretend it’s a rainy Saturday morning,
your seeds hibernating inside verdant waterfall dreams
you heart swimming past remote deserts blooming with starfish.
Nah, better drawn blinds…
She is a child when no one’s watching
believing this deal’s gotta be for real,
but just this once,
this last time around.
NYC
1981