Another Version

perhaps I was twenty-six

she looked me over and soon enough

the walk to her place was zip, zap, zoop;

meaning, although the barman called

me over to tell me she had recently stabbed

or had tried to stab a bartender from

down the street,

my only concern was another mandrax, a

joint of kashmir hashish with thick ***** streaks

and, most certainly, a new escape; a new woman

the floor (a penthouse apartment, mind you):

much water from an overflowing sink...then, there's

the layer of dust on the dishes of the dish rack...and, not

to forget, the four or five

frightening knives, all very reachable

then, she introduces me to her first

jumping up and down episode--hollering,

"you're my father! I must **** you!"

how I spent two or was it three days with

her dumbfounds me these days...the fool, me,

I remember, first turned off the water

and mopped dry the floor...the miracle of

how my hand awoke and grabbed her wrist,

with the blade's tip an inch from my heart,

will have to wait another session with Harmony

--that She may reach into my mind and

pull out a more clear version of the epilogue

of this is-it-a-poem which I've written

in numerous other versions over the years

..channeled; spirit Harmony; reaching into the poet's heart

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