When You Pass

 

She rode by in silk skins
in dragon boots
her thigh peppered in purple bruises
   like some very heavy chihuahua had pranced
   in clumsy circles just above her cypress knees
bottom lip ballooned
throwing me the bird with casual affair
legging that two-stroke
and dogging the throttle,

wasn't moonlight that turned me stiff
Sara looking back at Sodom
with a mouthful of salt
that silver shadow at the witching hour
thrown like a vaporous sheet of molten light
gathered a concentration of cloth and coal
blue jeans clustered in aggregate around my ankles
dogma on my tongue
my millions forestalled lock and step
en garde pith helmet horde
sent to battle
again

and again,

ah the pleasure when you pass.

TA