Rosa's

Remember how he photographed you
in a red dress, hair waterfalling your slim neck.
He knew everyone. You became an item.

He was often away, throwing himself off cliffs
into blue pools. His heart never developed
enough to be broken; or he put safety

first. Plenty of men live with the choices
that make them ordinary. They are precious
but ordinary. Perhaps he didn’t notice

the leaking light. But people didn’t notice
him so much or laugh at his bland jokes
and he would have gilded sons

who’d make the same choices. Perhaps
you were the compromise that had faded him
like a 70s Kodak. But you were living for

love and were afire that night on stage
at Rosa’s; running the tape back
still wonder about him.

@ianjmclachlan