She remembers
Slow dancing before the mirror in
her
Atelier.
She holds the negligee before her
like a shield
That will protect her from the
truth.
She was in a room
In a pension and
Her lover
Had faded off like the line in a
divided highway
At night
As the
Battery died.
No need to put the negligee on
No one there
Pop pop
Little popping sounds of
rain on my windowsill
Keep me company
Along with Otis.
Otis takes care of me when Zelda is away.
His face is very demonstrative
When I’m being stupid his mouth turns down and his eyes are
cold
When I use my brain to better advantage he grins
It took me ages to realize that one side of his china face
goes down and the other up
Which is a blessing because now
Depending on my mood
I can turn him and
receive
Confirmation.
Zelda has been gone about a year.
She left to avoid watching me slowly pass away it’s
Not like her to give up but I was immoveable
On the barstool
A feast of agony
Gorging on pain
Awash in cocktail seas
I ate nothing but salt and
Drank nothing but whiskey
For days, or was it months?
And still I berate my fate as though she were here to listen
As though the bar were still open
As though I were still alive.
The wet sand the brown sand
The white sand and now the inundating black sand
Rougher,
coarser, empty of shells
The clear
water the water filled with plankton and small fish roiling
The water
The
shells
Usually
cats paws and scallops not so many turkey wings
Now
The blue
heron the cloud of ibis the
Occasional
skimmer scooping the tide
The
plover eyes alight eyes afright
As I walk
past stepping carefully between
Sharp
objects.
This is
my other world
My
Florida. Once my refuge
Now I
look unseeing at the pelican cruising my waters I
Stare at
the ocean unaware of the dolphin
I stare
at the ground wishing
For
release.
Thus is
my love wasted.
She is my youth and my old age
Not
the in-between
She
is the adventure the frustration the longing the questioning
Not
the contentment peace joy in knowing you’re doing the
Right
thing
The
alpha and the omega the
Spring
flower years and the twilight
For
the first time I see the connection
The
middle is not empty but too full
For
remorse for retrospection
For
revolution
The
beginning..ah! We shall turn the world over
Upright
the wrongs
The
end…ah! We shall turn the world over and
Make
it in our own image
Shirley
you are one silly bitch.
When Zelda first approached me I
Dropped the cigarette
(She disapproves)
“You are an American I see”
She said with a sneer
You eat…coleslaw.
Cutting.
I recovered.
Yes I do. I’m not proud of it. But I draw the line at grits.
She softened.
Come with me.
She led me through room after room.
Gently lit, tap rails and wallpaper, a bust here and there
Of a poet or an architect.
Beautiful rooms.
I longed to go to the garden but she led me to the kitchen.
Sit. Eat. Afterwards we make love.
I acquiesced.
