rooster weathervane on top
it's time for dinner; students swarm through
quadruple doors
smells of mashed potatoes and chicken drift through the halls
what table awaits me down below?
will Christine make my head hurt with laughter?
afterwards, the gaiety continues in her room
draped with Egyptian tapestries as she serves
spiced teas and biscotti
and Joni Mitchell hoots sweetly from the cheap tapedeck
later, men join the women to seek Christine's wisdom
she beckons them into her romantic visions
in which lovers sacrifice their souls for the glory of
those brief moments in the dark
within this mysterious haven, I find myself emerge
amid the satirical banter and uproarious laughter
where everyone is suddenly sensuous and desirable
and where faded roses always yield to the softness of new petals
Comments
Post a Comment