Nicholas Allen
... I was sitting in
the Gilchrist in the
corner in the back
there minding myself
when who walks in
but Lily in her
leather-lace coat
and rubber heels
followed there by
a band of rattlers
and cowboys
swinging in
with women
with wings,
teeth flashing like
the snow-stained
lightning behind
them, but what
was I to do
but carry on
drinking rain
and eating smoke?
floorboards thrashing
rumbling now
as the band tumbles
in from the white,
all this in the town
of Paint in the
heart of the desert
mind you, tumbling in
like the flakes
outside the
warp-windowed wall...
suddenly
my glass is hollow
and nothing else to smoke
so up I step on over
to Ray who
fills me up
and slips a pack,
Lily blazing
me a stare
from the other end
and I see my reflection in
her painted nails again
then back in the
corner I see
her blazing all
the other cowboys
as many looks as
she can sell,
and I remember
that smile from
another storm
another place
with bear stew
and her architect son...
yes lightning
blazing like Lily
behind the blizzard,
she striking
Gilchrist’s gloom
for a moment
before abandoning
it again, no more
snowmen, never
an Easter dress, she
leaves her coffee
and camel soup
I see her leave our life behind
and leave with her –
I turn to watch
myself watching us
leave without
me
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