Humint interested her
rallying the big lights
of earnest salivation
like a deer to a salt block.

No reasoning, except
that dark alley ballyhoo
of excitement and con
firmation. The daylight

gets dull at times. But
she dresses slower
these days. Will little
fanfare or acknowledgment.

Convertibles were fun
salutations in Ft. Misery
going to the beach on
the back road - alone and

f.r.e.e., like a rebel in red.
face tan and full of promise
before the men. remembering
the picture of stolen moments

that no one ever knew of.
always innocent - yet owned.
love has a way of removing
the blots, leaving corporeal

snap.shots of times lines
like glimmering stars set
against a distant sea of
aquamarine, where she

played her hardest. with
out love. with the soliloquy
of liberty at her side. knowing
the rushes against flesh

when walking in murky
waters between the dunes
now were feasting vessels
those sharks that decided

that day was not for the
taking. fate has her own
path, we question her naught
engaged? rogovin? alas

no. the socialist epic
drawn up through the billows
to suit a man's credo. the
ring never on the right or

left hand long enough to
grasp its real meaning.
bucket.man belongs to
her. his heart rendered.

tears are not easy for
a strong man to muster.
to ask a woman for tissue.
to hold her against her will.

for not wanting to loose her.
the child was a glimmer of
hope that suffered the taunting
of ill photographs, claiming

retrograde at Chernobyl was
a solemn defeat. requesting
the tare at the hollow to solve
all life's burdens. the shame

of it all. in the dark no one
is alone. the dark is where
otherworldly creatures dwell
and they come to call at will.

one just need know how to
conquer their staving hungers
and put them to their weary
tasks of suffrage and penance.

she is his libertine.
he is her muse.