you rubbed the
grey worry stones
over and over,
that were found in the Chest,

                                        treasured or pandora's box, what else was inside?

patiently losing
kind parts
of your fingers,
massaging

                                     with printless tips, losing all identity, such sacrifice!

the still stones
hard with worry,
until the worry
fell away,
           landing and curling
           like shavings a
            Carpenter's work
           would leave  behind,

and the stones
began to look
like red and
soften up some

you took it in stride, no pride or boasting, no scolding no holding it over my head,

                                                          ­                    
you never faltered,
you went and
stood silently,
watching me
tire each day
from my new
and advent-
urous ways,

behind me to
remind me
there was safe-
ty in your arms,

                                                          ­                        tall tales told of night time fictional conquests, lies about lying with strangers!

the pink flesh
you wore, never
turned green
knowing we would
find each
other
every
night

                                              
till dawn
              and morning
                                   light glinted
                                                       of your hair,
                                                                ­           your smile,
adding colour to the design?

hands break pieces dark uneven
fingers squeeze the bottle red, into a freshly picked glass
plate holds ceremonial a desert dry

be careful what you read into what I write
and I will be careful into what I bite,
this was not an exchange of ideals

dark chocolate, pieces three, late with a plate with
two ginger bread soft snaps, my momma
makes, two together, microwave whether
you trust that machine, till a lift soft and a little warm

no harm to drink the wine with each sweet, spicy soft bite,
hold
for
a moment
in your mouth and taste, the Syrah deep inside the cookie,
as the dark chocolate melts in your mouth, coating teeth,
beneath a moon the clouds want to hide, and all to me
is perfectly clear, just for now. Oh ginger SNAP! softly and quietly
it is late...

she sat with her back to the brick column
holding up a vestibule, she found useful
as a public sorting place for the private
contents, of her camel coloured purse, remarkably ****-
tered as her "****** life", her short term
fix, IT, took a carefully cared for, crack pipe.

Running late was I, and eye contact was made
and I quietly but firmly said to the seated glazed eyes look-
ing up at me, "might be best if you leave."

next day kilometres away, early morning bank
deposit, and a coffee run, me and the dog, out
for fun "car rides" bring her much delight, a voice
from behind said "mister, mister you gotta help me!,
I'm, not an addict, and last night I could not get home,
rode transit for free out to here from Kitsilano but,"
she breathed, "in the it cost me a ticket for one
hundred and seventy five dollars, when I got caught"

I looked at her, seeing her hair dishevelled and a face full
of what, despair...? "so what do you want from me?"  
She
ran on with her mouth, playing with her top, the sentence was
run on and wouldn't stop.  "I made some bad choices, came here to meet my EX, found him with a girl having ***, and I need ten or twenty,
bucks to get me home, the transit cop said he would not let me back on and would still be working until three A.M., stranding me, until this morning see?!"

We
went back and forth, verbally,
"transit does not cost that
much, stop asking me for
money!", and she fired
back,
"my math is bad,
the money would be
nice and do your Karma
good, I am a big  believer
in that", finally I left her
with a small handful of
small change and watched her walk
away, got in my car, got my coffee, got  going home...

but as I drove by her, she was standing back to the hedge,
calm had returned as she waited, her hair was in place,
I saw something I failed to observe during our dialogue....

under her arm was
that camel coloured
purse...two women
suddenly became one