Mary:
This is the way I remember her:
Conversing without complaint
Telling it like it is and was
Pointing out that nobody’s perfect,
Then jokingly clarifying the right way
I destroyed her porch plant with a flick of my cigarette,
This is the day I will quit smoking
This is the day I remember her Merit.
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I fall asleep, if but only for
A split-second:
End of cigarette in my right hand.
It’s early, I mean early morning,
Her ghost; detached from her vehicle and ready
She, wanting to take over me
Through the semi-transparent white;
That of an angelic-spread.
Swinging my empty left hand; forward I haul
Myself.
I jolt up and out of it,
Back to the now,
Without her
Possessing me.
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Black eyes gaze
from faded photographs…
Music of the Romany
Danced in between,
Languid women,
Bodies like
Melted butter,
Sipping their
Fin a’ l’eau
Their laughter,
The rustling
Of dead leaves
And dark men
Flashing smiles
Hair slicked,
With the faint
Scent of Patchouli
The air dense
With the smoke
Of Clove cigarettes
It was their cafรฉ,
A chimera for
The disenchanted
The last haven
Of hope for the
Forgotten ones
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