I watch the harried blonde
Searching her car,
Opening her trunk,
Closing it again,
Get in her ***** 91 Lebaron
Missing a hubcap.
She drive around the corner,
Turns down the street again
Stops, opens her door,
Steps out, slower this time
All legs and ***.
I'm drawn to her pale skin
The curve of leg,
The slant of hip.
I'm a well- worn soldier,
Looking in the heart of darkness,
Or a poet caught up
In lust.

Either way-

Evening descends,
I look up and down
The lane for the harried blonde
With the curve of leg
And slant of hip.
Smoke from my cigarette
Lighting the air-
I breathe in the moment,
Time is invisible
The movement of dust lifts sunlight in air,
Through the cheap window,
The bowed frame
yet it danced
around her like suns
and she was lit
and I was red,
dust and blue smoke,
filled the space with light
swirling and blue,
shimmering red,
and I loved her essence.
Blue smoke
Blue flame
Suns blazing
Motes and darkness
Filled with light
Blue light all around her.