A POEM FOR THE GIRL IN THE DARK, DRESSED IN SUNLIGHT

MAY 1, 2013

watch out, she said.
you don’t want all my crazy all at once!
i told her that I did.

i told her raised-eyebrow smile;
i told her floating hands;
i told it to her sparkling eyes:
her green green, wet, and questioning eyes.

and so she shrugged.
she grinned.
she increased the volume of her music.
and then she stepped outside the car.
i opened a door, and then i did the same.

the night was a cloud, descended upon us,
the night was an invitation.
the night was a river, she danced on its face
in a pretty yellow dress:

hair-tossing, foot-stomping, hip-thrusting movements
up and down the street outside my house.

the sun of her dress, her smile, her eyes
pushed cut spun flashes of fire
flashes of fire
flashes, eruptions, volcanos of fire
woven into the fabric of night as i watched.

watch out, she said.
you don’t want all my crazy all at once.
i told her that i did want that. (and meant it.)