cobalt

On the wall in the house, there is a photo of her.
On the wall. A photo of her in high school. Looking
much younger. Like a sunshine vanilla wafer. An incomprehensible set of visual clues.
A cheerleader, a majorette, a prom queen, a finger food, a series of
adolescent obsolete transparencies, flung against my watch.

Theyre smoking again.
Were singing a song about Jean-Marie.

He returned now and hung about the fence
till nightfall, showing off as before; but the girl
never exhibited herself again.

A goat bays, or makes
whatever sound goats make, and I stare it in the eye. I
stare thru the eye of a goat.

I fade away, passing out.

He knew that a yearning glance fell upon him
now and then through a film of tears, but he refused recognition.

Darkness. Locusts spinning in trees.
Who is that? That is Larissa,
I see one little girl who is looking out the window -
I am afraid she thinks I am out there somewhere ---
perhaps in one of the trees making a speech to the little birds.

I hide from a knock at the door.


Now sir go and sit with the girls!
And let this be a warning to you!