old poem revised

(untitled)

The first time I saw you in person you were in purple satin,

and a lotus deep up my river broke open;

then I ran away

to days of dreaming

while onstage

you did your best Sid Vicious in LA—

which made me dizzy with inspiration.

Then there was the theatre with

an electric orange and pink hue cast on everything

including how stunningly outrageously beautiful

you were primed in life;

where afterwards I gave you pressed flowers

with hope upon hope;

and more dreaming

until the tragedy where I hopped over rows to say hello,

only to be told you had left out the back;

the days of heaviest weight

where it’s all a poet can take

to stay above ground.

Then you dropped down a rope to a rocky stage

and stared right through the audience;

and after even that

when you became an enchanting witch,

a sage next to the sea

matches wouldn't stay lit.

You rode away on a bike

up a main street alight with neon,

like the prettiest girl,

disappearing into the prettiest world.