Last Night

Last Night Look up there. Do you see the seven sisters? The night is unusually warm. I hear speeding cars going down Broadway. The freight train is screeching across Canobie. Purple-blooming jacarandas cry petals of rejection. You sat on the curb and told me it was over. Told me you were now seeing Bob from work. I am happy for you if that is important to you. I am happy he pleases you sexually when I could not. Look up there. I see the seven sisters dancing like queen stars. Dancing stationary as with stones set in black marble. You and I are through now. No more naked romps in the dark den at midnight. The candle is lit there and Mahler music still plays. But vacant now are your gentle taps on my back door. Missing now is the dark-skinned 19-year-old lady I desire. Late at night now I lie on the shag carpet waiting, Hopelessly waiting for your midnight tapping on my door. But you never show up although you gave me hope. Is it really finished? Last night I fell asleep there as Mahler’s fourth symphony played on. I dreamed of you sleeping naked by my side.