Admirations

I.

The scent of wanton lust
escapes your parted lips
as my eyes follow
the gentle curve of your breast
and your eyes follow
the gentle curve of hers


II.

She only falls in love
with writers and poets

not only good ones,
either

The trouble with writers and poets is
they make excellent lovers
and piss-poor companions

she’s never alone
but she’ll always be lonely


III.

She escaped

I found her pressed
between the bookshelves
the wall said

Erotica

the book in her hands said

Anaïs Nin

it was the way she held herself
like standing and reclining at the same time
unsupported by anything

she took hold of my arm
and dragged me,

willing,

outside
up Rideau Street
in the bright summer sun
to Rock Junction,

breathless


IV.

The autumn after
the summer I read
Slaughterhouse Five,
Cat’s Cradle,
Nineteen Eighty-Four
and Anthem

We sat and watched
Sir Richard Burton and John Hurt.
Annie Lennox danced in our ears
and I held your hand
for the last time.


V.

she is passed out cold
empty bottle of absinthe
lingers at her feet


VI.

Your hair first,
then your glasses,
familiar words on your skin,
summer dress fluttering
black, white and red.
perfect bare legs
Your back to the sun
elbows bent
forearms on the railing
hands clasping your phone,
cord disappearing behind your hair
to the music in your ears.