Aug. 4th, 2007

Poem Spam

Aug. 4th, 2007 08:45 am
aquabean: (rainy harbor)
1978
by Cecilia Woloch

That winter we were so broke
we each siphoned gasoline from the other's cars,
lived on tea and cigarettes.
You let me wear the moth-eaten mink
your last lover, the stripper, had left behind.
(Or was she a fire-eater, that Rose, an exotic dancer
heading west and sure you would follow her?
You did.) Icy mornings, I lay in bed
while you warmed both engines; the frost would melt.
The check would come in the mail any day;
you'd take me to breakfast, suddenly rich.
But while we were young and poor our breath
was visible, like steam, like smoke.
(And Rosa, your Rosa, your Rose
was the ghost in each photograph you took.
I turned from the camera, ashamed
of how my face was still unformed.)
When the snow blurred to rain you would go.
I remember the taste of gasoline
and how you wrote a few times from the road
that sullen spring, then never wrote.
aquabean: (Sasuke - Oh baby. Oh baby.)
It should be noted that Fish Number Four* came into our lives yesterday and he's very happily swimming around his bowl on the top of the mantle now.

His name is Sammy.

Pictures of all four will go up later today I'm sure.






*OMG what is wrong with us? No more going to PetCo. 'cause-'cause-'cause... okay. So at least this time we only came home with ONE more. Eh heh. *facepalm*

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