May Day In Oregon
We stumbled out of the professor's house drunk and dazed
Cackling in that conspicuous way about something his wife had said.
The outdoor air was tight and crisp in contrast with
The kitchened cat-haired aura of the professor's home
and my companions' eyes glinted in the reflection of slick streets and sweaty moon.
New flares of laughter and I turned back to see the most beautiful girl
Sprawled face-up on the sidewalk,
Her lilac tutu once gaudy now rendered lyrical when placed on misty cement.
She rose and we trudged onwards, shattering the suburban night
With shouts about Boston, hidden summertimes, and pending separations.
The most beautiful girl shone unaware of sticky leaves clinging to her tutu
But I said nothing, for tomorrow would bring blinding desert and crushed-leaf memories
And I needed to save words (and leaves) on this last night of being broken with strangers
Like this most beautiful tutued girl
Who saved me far more than any other had dared under this indifferent moon.
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