I remember that windy
February night

we sat cross-legged
on the hardwood floor

in the room of that hotel
on Michigan Avenue

popping corks
squirting cheese ****

talking in riddles
and circles

Rest respite
or a place

to call your own
home

is where your head is
when it rains

stolen no found
art and truly

one to write about
a letter from the heart

Left a year's
worth of rubber
five miles back

somewhere
in Oklahoma
and the sky is now orange

glowing like a long
freshly lit
cigarette

angel
or devil on my shoulder
God only knows

Soap flake snow
and a plastic
candy cane path

to the gingerbread house
and velvet throne
where he sat

cheeks rosy
and oh so so jolly
with a little help

from a magic flask
and it goes without saying
those were the days

risky yes
but that was most of the fun
feeling so free

riding our Christmas bikes
without helmets
pretending we were pilots

flying without charts
barnstorming
hook or by crook

or

our chinny chin chin
and by the worn-out seat
of our corduroy pants

Elegant yellow lights
twinkling

chrome
and whitewall tires

velvet ropes
and bellhops

gold carpets
crystal chandeliers

and runners

we've come so far
and yet

at the same time
we've been going in circles

Where have you been
all my life

I'd ask you the same
but the words fail me

as they always do

each year in the cold
under the red and green lights

our breath freezing
before our very eyes

we discover each other
all over again

It's fun
when you turn the corner

and feel the on-rushing heat
blast your face

like a big blow-dryer
and your beads of sweat


turn to goldfish
as they flop on the pavement