The sun beat down my back till
I tanned like stretched leather strips.
A swinging, naked belt display in
A shop window.
I was worn and punctured too.
I was cinched, linked, and tied.
Laid out to dry, soaked in brine.
So when the wind of summer
Blew back your
Hair that kept itching to be cut,
Hanging down in a rough earth–
Colored curtain just enough to shade
Your eyes from mine…
With it I went too.
Past the
Tip of your upturned nose
And the places we could
Go in old cars with windows
Down, over and around streets
Lined with small houses in
Basements, sofas, itchy blankets
Curled up and around one another
In the glow of a T.V. screen.
And
I was gone in
A rush of
Dust and gold.
But
No one ever
Told me I’d do that.