Nicole (and an afterthought on poetry)

her hair was giant
swallowed whole barroom city night
in the way it draped
past eyes
and down weeping willow over
the mystic gin and tonic
lime floating
amongst the ice of it all
and there with the music
and stirring straw
and holy head of hair
she took a sip
without raising
the glass
from the bar



(and i'll sketch out these mythic taverns
with all the color of the lost souls
they got
in these bad break need a tune up
tumble over each other
words
...and no justice will be done
just a faint scent
in the air of the brain
that might help
with memory)