Brownsville Grave Amid the Pines

I had held hopes
you’d meet me here.

after standing wet awhile
with
black-keeled crows
raking
the blue-veined fog

we’d have slugged
down the gravel road

to
the usual milkshakes,
our feet placing
the sounds of stones between our voices.

Angeles

were I anywhere
else
the sea winds
would’ve come in by now,
coughing
through trees
like an old man pruning.

like an eyeless rat instead
the brown air scrapes
the belvedere’s balustrade,
titters past me into
the chamber groping
for sweets.
I turn to follow
humming low

a hoyden to bring you satisfaction
a shy lass to drive you mad

and find you delectably unmoved,
two breasts steaming like dawn snow
(and perching there
two red-flecked grackles in the snow).

Darling, I shall winter here;
in these shaded vales shall I encamp with all my arms,
and once satisfaction
I have gained,
shall campaign with equal fervor
elsewhere.