she was
eyes, a nose,
a pair of hands sketched with star tattoos
a place of soft resting,
for the road is lonely
she schooled me
on sex and noir films
and laughed like cool water
on hundred degree days
I joked she ate too much salt
would raise her blood pressure
and I was worried
but
it gave me excuse to listen to her heart
and be grateful for it’s beating
we made snow angels
when it was 40 below
and I thought we’d die frozen
curled around one another
the wind frosting our bodies covered in white
slender frame
but always surprised me by her weight
“I keep the hate inside, it makes me stout”
like dreams and sunrise gods
she would fade into nothing
“It’s not that I don’t love you
I don’t love anybody”
no more curls
to grab fistfulls of dark brown
bury my face through to her neck
I see her once every few years
she catches my eye in smile
and lets me know
she once was real
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