I may not be a woman

It flares in your mind
like sparks from striking a match. 
Sometimes it’s horses. 

Crinkled statements
green disappears leaving scarlet,
morning frost, cold moonlight.
What does the catfish carry
at muddy river bottom?

Lovers walk the park,

dance close-but-chaste

at the foot of the hill.

Mated doves fly together,

seeking just the right place,

the spot meant for their nest.

Lying on the grassy slope,

you fell asleep, smiling, sighing

in whatever dream you found,

comfortably safe in my arms,

comforting me to dream as well,

safe for now in my own stormy sea.

Distant laughter brought me awake,

my left hand draped on your breast,

not your shoulder, where I’d left it.

My cheeks flushed, I tried to move,

only to have you look at me and smile.

Dream or not, in the moment, the same.

(after the circa-1990 painting, “The Lovers Dream (in the style of Marc Chagall),” by John Myatt)

His juicy hamburgers are accompanied by potato salad that took Larry all day to make. I had watched and waited for the coveted comments that signify success potential. Yes, he said, cubing cooled spuds, the potatoes are perfect. He added celery & onions & vinaigrette dressing & placed it in the frig. At the last minute he added a mayonnaise & sour cream dressing. For dessert he had picked out the perfect ruby red watermelon, flicking several before finding the right pitch, a strategy only a piano tuner would understand.

I brought guacamole as an appetizer in case there was waiting-around time. There was not. Kevin had everything perfectly timed. The table was set with a white cloth, blue willow china, chopped onions, sliced tomatoes, lettuce, ketchup, mustard, pickles & mayonnaise.

On the way home Larry & I discussed the amount of meat in each burger. It was more than a quarter pound, I said, maybe a third. Larry said, No, they must’ve been a half a pound. At home, relaxed we & watched Bridgerton, reminiscing delicious.

It’s a permission she wanted
permission for her show and tell
something to prove her presence
something to help with her internship,
so we gave her some old form
resting on the desk of your scattered
business. Was it the red card
or blue or the one with your picture
holding a basket of baby asparagus
that we found we she came down
our dead-end from Phoenix?

(I was in an over-stuffed
white leather lounger
at the edge of a field of dreams
with dust motes in my eyes
when)

She arose
out of nowhere,
a beauty with pimply face
and hair pulled back in the sweat
of our high-alert heat wave,
selling Southwest books
in this rural neighborhood,
her blue backpack
by itself on our concrete porch,
a wheelbarrow tipped over in the yard
old Stella on her last leg
and she with her brown hand
lightly holding Stella’s face.
My god, I thought it was you,
those green eyes
made my heart thump
and some last drop of sap to rise

(I was here,
and there & then with you
in the falling barn
making love in the slanted light
when)

There you were
back from your labors at our neighbors
so quiet I had not heard,
I was glad for the help
you gave my emotions
and when I called her a brave child
your slicing glance made me say
brave young lady

I hated when she left,
stay I thought stay
this is the nicest place
with the nicest people
but she took our permission
and snapped it with her phone

A special treat
for us inland land lubbers.
The process, a messy art.
Locals will try to explain,
then eat what we leave behind,
even the green stuff.

Untie laurels between blinks: ember
mistletoe,

Candy luminous
puffs, pink and plum sugar spun
precede the slow sun,

morph into neon
stripes, a tiger burning bright
electric orange

over the rooster’s
crow to white chickens beside
a red wheelbarrow.

situation and preparation:
I have a white dress with sequins.
it makes me feel like a disco ball.
It’s true… it’s a hotgirl dress.
I like it (even though I’m not a hotgirl.)
people with nothing better to do would mind,
offended by my audacity
making a nightout headline.
(A part of me is scared of them
and a part of me is ashamed I am afraid.)

but most people won’t care!
I’ll proceed without caution.

Justification, just in case I need caution:
I have the dress and I must wear it!
• enjoy your wardrobe! Live life fearlessly! Be yourself! You’re doing great!
• don’t waste money, you evil burden.
your clothes are killing the environment.
• don’t let it be in vain. The world is dying. It’s all* your fault.
• *it’s not actually all your fault.

Caution:
maybe that hotgirl thing wasn’t valid, but,
It will get spilled on so I must not wear it.
you bought it, so don’t ruin it.
where will I wear it then?
a party with no food or drinks
an environment with no rain or climate,
and don’t sweat in it either.
I guess I’ll become a mannequin.
I would be less inconvenient that way, at least.

maybe I’m not ready to wear this dress.