before that, talking
crazy talking, ranting
dancing
wine
doors flung open,
shouts into the moonlight.
naked, we flopped into bed
still dark, now quiet
until Jack flew in
still talking ranting dancing
called us square for
being pissed at the intrusion,
laughed as he went on
about Hawaii, Catholics, Dorothy Dandridge,
jukeboxes, gypsies, the mob, Philly, and the
assurances of an empty space,
a starless void
silence in the cold dark
when we die.
regan lee
june 2014
eugene, oregon
