Remember those days?
compromising photos
still had to be brought to
the developer
that one of you with your hands
down your pants
somewhere a black lace
bra with excited
nipples pressing
through
me, smiling, mouth wide
so young-looking
though I was already near thirty
just a girl with
razor-buzzed hair
and short shorts
my small breast falls to the side
as I laugh for the camera
I was happy for a moment
in the City of Lights
even though we drank the wine
and missed their glow
then to catacombs
crawling through faerie chimneys
I felt the veil lift and the
future busted through
“I love the whirling of the Dervishes” *
It had been in my head
for a week
and there it was
scratched out on the black and white TV
in the background of the pansion
where the girl with the stark-white-towel
on her head
peeled open a green door to us
Of all the places…
We loved then,
on night-crawling trains
in spidery rooms
with danger tucked in our suitcase
We let language lick our lips
and tried our hands at When In Rome
we rode to peaks and
spied the Mediterranean from on high
its blue-green liquid love flowing
into our veins
we ate fish sandwiches by the seaside
threw our hearts into the
high black Bosporus
and felt we could walk on water
as the young boy called out the boat to
Karakoi
I found a worn old shoe, washed up
carried it all the way home
in my bag and picked a special shelf for it
It spoke volumes, I said,
that platform had seen the world
through its journey on water
and now 20,000 miles of
straight up sky
We rode into madness
our love crashing and burning
in a free fall spiral
We hurt and hurt back
just to see if we could
just to feel that heat again
How did it finally end?
fingers, voices raw?
maybe with a whisper
I can’t even recall
All these years later
you ask if I am still crazy
as you bury your dead
the tide of time
pushing us to our final meeting
Yes, Crazy
Crazy for Love, even Now
Crazy for Flesh even as it Falls and Rots
Crazy for Life, Blood, for a Heart that Beats
in step with Mine
Crazy Dancer,
Twirling as if my Life
depends on it
Crazy for the End
so that I may
Start Again
© 2011 J. Noade
* from “Them Heavy People“ by Kate Bush
