Chime, The Wind
________________________

All that she got out
before her hair zipped her lips shut,
was "The Wind is God..."
I finished for her "-damn strong today".

But I didn't dismiss where she left off,
perhaps its true, only and after all.
Deny it, when out on a sailboat at sea.
Using God's mercy like
it's second nature.

But she was close then
and my eyes watered from
squinting away what wasn't her.
Trees watered down into the clouds
that smudged away all brightness.
Just her eyes had color, telling me follow.
The buttons of her shirt
pushed against mine,
it was no fair battle;
metal on plasticky something.
So I fell ungracefully,
yet we both knew on purpose.
I only felt impacts happening
above me.
Call it that, just like saying embracing
when it's grabbing.
As if Halloween candy dumped
between us, our masks barely raised
above our faces.
We will know better, after
we're not hungry.
Each with a favorite; Okay.
Then, full, maybe an ache,
surrounded by discarded wrappers
called clothes and windbreakers.
Well, hers, I was less prepared,
so two shirts, as if I was cheating
at strip poker.

The light grey one, the underneath
that she draped over herself when
she excused to the bathroom.
I never saw it on me again,
it became her hostage;
The pictures of her holding it up
with just her body.
Tightly, and the wind is no god
because that shirt is a sculpture
of her.

MC/20