The Misinterpretation of Julie Dunn

I stared at you often in class,
and I figured you for Native American.
How very much the risqué daughter
of Japan you turned out to be.
I would watch you walk
to the front of the class,
intoxicated by your lithe body.
I listened to your poems
that scared and fascinated audiences,
surprising all that were in earshot.
Yet, who knew so much brewed
under that cool way and voice,
throaty and full of your
quiet, sexual tenacity?

*      *      *      *    *

Chance placed us in
same workgroup
during charming May
and me closer to you.
You admired my runes of past loves,
seeing in those words
seemingly genuine passion.
You became Venus
embodied in my spellbound mind.
A strategic carlift to
the furthest Trax station revealed
the shambles your home life
lay in:
Infidelity, insensitivity and incompatibility
were the ingredients that spoiled
a relationship left simmering too long.
The unrepentant tendrils of your
tales of infidelity is what
piqued my desire for you,
and the domineering way
of your husband
appealed to my hopeless heart.
I was laid open by a double edged sword,
my pursuit would no be hindered
by no one.
Not even you.

*      *      *      *    *
I finally conjured the courage,
To ask you out
Although you were still bound
To the laws of matrimony,
but readily you obliged.
We would find ourselves
In nowhere particularly spectacular,
like the bowels of
Union building or
traipsing down the tree-lined
paths of the campus.
However, dulcet lines of poetry were scrawled
in each other’s notebook,
borne of exultant sentiments
stirring in our hearts:
One, a redoubt housing pain
yet needing redemption,
the other, a gyre where
lust and love swirled tumultuously.

*      *      *      *    *

During an ensorcelled evening
that found us
lounged in the leather-loaded
lair of my Lincoln,
I finally opined for your soul,
the Scorpio rising in my thirsty heart.
Not willing to relent,
you laid out the bare essentials
of your state;
Finding solace in another
was actually finding the devil in his den,
not in your cards at the time.
I would need to house my riotous
heart in patience,
and give yours, calamitous,
time to heal.
But your words were transformed,
in my minds eye.
I envisioned nights of fierce coition,
forging into ardent romance…
I would make my own rules…
I was going full bare in.

*      *      *      *    *

I knew that rouse to you
from reality, I had to take you
at your own game.
I drank from you, urgently, purposely,
and you were my wildest dreams:
Match for match, point for point,
you could satisfy.
I thought I would use this utopia
of desire
to thrust my way into your heart.
I had you cornered into my trap
or so I thought..
Under late summer nights,
you were receptive to me and my fun,
but not in heart and soul.
My brobdingnagian scheme
of entrapment
was progressing slowly,
and I was despondent.
Resorting to devious measures
I threatened to find solace
in the arms of another
I did not have.
ever resourceful, yet umbrageous
you would not be pulled in.
Another player entered the game,
and quickly decimated
my err riddled efforts.
Feigning that my heart had
since quit the foray,
it was left bereft,
and yours found itself
reluctantly appeased.
Your new foray developed quickly,
I daresay as fast as I would have liked
us to have culminated.

*      *      *      *    *

I saw you one last time,
your face had the look
of the game show host
who presents the runner up
with the consolation prize.