A bat of the eyes, a flick of the wrist,
a ruffle of sleeve, a daydream,
a heartattack kiss and
I'm gone, no time to grieve--
all the leaves of prose and bad poetry,
perhaps you'll remember me-
during those halcyon afternoons,
when the coffee brews,
distant church bells ring out
a panhandler's tune no one can sing to,
but we used to dance it through
in damp clothes and into dark rooms--
a life lost in desperate minutes,
forbidden fruits and daggers of knowledge
were all we could taste, feel in the midst
of the misery in simply existing,
and woman you're free to rise above me,
stare from the balcony,
while I reenact a lifetime of sin
on a half-lit stage, far from the lilac's bloom,
never will I dress as a groom,
nor will I sleep under the same moon,
that was miles ago, summers away from here,
a mythical love taken to sea,
oh, it's easy to miss what never could be.