Angels and Demons

It had been months
since I had
seen her
and fuck she
looked as beautiful
as ever.
The smock hung from
her shoulders like poetry
and the same for
her dark brown hair.

We hugged and sat
on the porch. I
had a beer but
she said she
couldn't stomach it.

We went 0 to 60
with the therapist
shit.
Her split
and all of mine.

It didn't take long
for us to start laughing.

It got dark
and we read poetry
to each other,
Bukowski and old Saigyo.

I apologized for trying
to kiss her on
New Years.
We were intimate but
she kept her foot
on the clutch always
(she knew I wouldn't)

She wouldn't accept it
"There's  nothing to
apologize for."
She said,
"It had been ages
since I'd been
listened to.
Really listened to."

I smiled and sighed.

"We'll have our day"
I promised her.

She had the eyes,
the face of an
angel,
But I could see
her get mad.

"What the hell
is that supposed to
mean?"

She knew what it
meant and I felt
bad that she couldn't
just accept me being
a chickenshit for
right now.