Aimee

Iron horse that tore an iron trail

Still reached the patio

Where she deflected blows

And smiled as the world

Played court.

She'd just returned

From years in Europe

Sporting short and curly hair

Surrounding her narrow eyes.

A friend invited her

To my forty fourth.

She confiscated my celebration.

Our conversation

Tangoed through the hours.

She followed me across

The midnight avenues

Until she stole the lead

And boldly took my hand into

The dancing factory

Where college students

Bent, caressed, and stomped half-dressed,

Pretending they were in the larger city

Near the coastline.

She was twenty-three

And smuggled me

Onto the sweating floor.

Beneath the flashes

Pastel pink and blue,

She poured ice vodka

Through my open lips,

Massaged her back

In tempo

In me.

Three am,

Between Rihanna

And Major Lazer,

Someone swayed by

And wished me happy birthday.

Suddenly

The flavor of the drinks

Aged twenty years

And changed,

Grew acrid,

Stale.

I slid away.

Occasionally

We'd see each other

At the rodeo or the bar

And make awkward exchanges.

Another decade down a hole

Three thousand miles

From the tracks,

That night's a dream I

Woke from far too fast,

And wrong and right

Is but a bowl of melted ice cream.

- 11/6/25