Contortionist

I balled a contortionist in the Yukon 

I can still taste her potted plants whenever I smell warm terra cotta broken glass beet greens

WHAT the fuck she was doing in the Yukon or what the fuck she was DOING in the Yukon is beyond me 

                                                                                                              I didnt ask

She may have been there like me some thing of a desperate history  a beginning

                                                                                      a tamed wild thing   at heart wild hanging by a bent hempthread wild

Her name was Jane a plain Jane so simple  then some thing realised then radically unsimple 

                                                                                                    Jane named asif it sought to hide that some thing

Since I have paid keen attention to simple 

I was astonished how her backbone worked

I wished mine worked like hers

 

She was a grocery cashierher math as fast as the gawddamned machine except for calculating taxes 

                                                                                                           Quick brown eyes a fast pleasant smile her teethyes ofcourse  uneven 

At the bar I didnt ask what she did she said I didnt ask

                                                           But for Christssake turned out this plain Jane working a cashiers line was fuckin priceless

She asked what I did

   I said I think I think shit youd think was hard to think up But not for me 

                                                                                 Thinkin wanders in like a hungry vagrant a nose full of smell finds free chowlines for soup and sandwich an doesnt say Grace leaves before Church words begin to rattle addle and isnt concerned about the watchful eyes that believe it owes them to hear what they have to say because of the charity they afforded it  The soup   The cheese sandwich 

                                                                              That isnt charity Expecting something in return for something willingly offered  Dont give if you want something back 

So. You’re witty?

I aint witless

Ah.

I smiled   fast became an eyes sprung wideopen witness

I ordered another round of drinks

And another

And another

For a skinny girl she could hold her liquor 

                                             But in the end I was bigger than she was

Later that night she slept like a baby

It was pleasant to lie beside her watch her purse her lips watch her eyes move behind her eyelids wonder what she saw  It was pleasant her occasional snortsher mumble of disconnected words like answers to a crossword puzzle in her roulette mind  

When she woke in the morning roused by the smell of coffee brewing she stretched a stretch Id never seen or imagined could be stretched

Her eyes fluttered

She looked at me

She mewed good morning

I stroked her headher sleepy head I stroked her wildpressed hair groaned good morning

Hmmmm. 

           she smiled closed her eyes again

I kissed her on the forehead  Youre still drunk  

She touched the tip of her nose with her tongue I’m still drunk.

Coffee

Tea or me.  she didnt open her eyes 

                                       You’re witty, you’re supposed to say coffee, tea or me. she stretched her stretch again opened her eyes looked into mine

   You

Me?  Tarzan.  Her body sifted towards me

Look whos witty  Yes you Jane

I like the way you think.

 

The coffee burned

8ishness,  4th of July, 2007

1410,  Thursday,  27  7. 23