Now She’s Done It

“I wish I could speak sky.”
—Richard Hell (“Boy Meets Death, Boy Falls in Love” in Hot and Cold)

And still a shadowy figure
and steady footsteps stamping the rain
behind me cause trouble. I must retire
from this life before

it retires me. Says the old one, says
who. Five o’clock on a Friday flows
in both directions—make it three,
four, more. I see

the water sculpture gain
momentum as it spills off
the edge of a tower
atrium balcony. They move

waterfalls on rivers
as famous as the Mississippi
and others you can’t name too. What
should I do

with you now? Hot and cold. I flip
through it in a crowded Starbucks—sketched
penises fly by. And you—naked
on one page. I can’t stop

to stare/admire you/it.

In a crowded Starbucks.
That’s what I get
for pulling you out

here—for taking in
my daily double shot

espresso in a crowded Starbucks
in the first place. The last place
would be where a stranger refuses
to pass me.

3 thoughts on “Now She’s Done It

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