586

race up the stairs
the steps, I mean
to kiss a girl
in striped stockings
with a love of storms and bees

trip on the rug
to hold yourself up
to pant and release the alcohol
now nobody will call you a fool
just hot and dumb
in believing a girl with hair
tied up in streams would love
a man carrying woe in his animal fat

but what else I say
can a man do but cry when straining
for the sun at night
if she carries it in her breast
in a nickel plated locket
don’t scream or rise
just offer a golden bell
or some silence