He Vs. She

19 Sep

And he took her there in
unpronounceable Polish
or was it Latin blood? And
they slid to a halt in his
first time. It in no way
detracted
from the sounds that
passed out of his lips.

He died for a second, though
living as he lay there he
half knew she was perhaps
the finest match between
model’s handbags
and patent leather patrons
flowing into obscurity.

And her hair flowed all
around him like golden
snakes.

He had not been discovered,
but she might come in a year into
tepid vapors of pale green, beyond
the reality
of dreams
of the Monsignor
having a party that would keep
him up all night. He touched it- the
cathedral dark that showed his efforts
on the planet Earth, and it would serve
to sever his critics,
and be his epitaph
in bronze.

She cabbed over from the alley
as if God would ever allow
lightly such a creature of kind
though barren, stacking
appointments against the wall,
the streets following her. She
almost ran into him admiring
herself as the faces pressed
against the glass, pale gums
exposed in admiration, imagining
a huge mattress thrown down
in ruins of her constructed body.

She grew warm and golden,
and laughed lightly. She watched
him spread his smiling face outward-
it divided sound- and held
a brush out towards her.

She laughed again, seemingly unaware
of the power that flashed like
a slim white-glowing fire.

He tried to match her pace, but
it had the look of a painting now of
one-armed chophouses. There would
be no mercy conferences-
just the way they wanted it!

She was the star, and he was falling
as the Pan-Hellenic intercourse failed.

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