Ruby's Song

Ruby was a condor in black jeans
                            but, as she said
                            joy is at the edge of fear, laughing

In her vinyl
she kept the souls of bluesmen
                            (our first meeting was all cigarrettes and Pink Floyd)
to resurrect
with memory.
In the old grooves
we strum like an orgasm.

Dancing in the old ways
the folk moves turned electric
leaping onto a table
red wine, ballooning on the carpet

* * *
this is what I reassemble
these walls sing
with the echoes of emotion -
the arm of a chair becomes your thigh

this is why I watch Nick Drake
spinning in the old way
between the moon and weathervane
in love with the loss of her.