Tryst

See the distance of sequins
fishbowled in a night sky
and a dozen warm moons descending
- it was the evening of the Balloon Fiesta;
it was the Night Glow -
See the river turned to oil
and on the far bank a drunk
sequestered in an amber disc
bearded by his own smoke
Too far to hear
even if I had screamed

From where he stood
we must have looked like lovers

Wine rubs the corners
off most memories
the way pebbles smooth on the tideline
but that evening is a rusting can
It is a used condom
and in the bath I never get clean
just wet

Oh, that you could know
such pictures
That you could stare as hard
and as hollow
as I