The Geographical Anatomy of the Creation and the Destruction of a Romance

I. Shadyside Angostura bitters and sweet vermouth. Too much unbalance the Manhattans, the Manhattans unbalance me placing a hand on your hand,                         my hand pulling away each time you touch me                         I long for your warmth but at the same time                         I snap back defeated, despondent,                         dying to recapture a desire to make love but can’t             make myself             make             the first move. II. South Side Records pinwheel on turntables, I dance on tables showing leg, peek-a-boo, kissing by the men’s room your hand sneaking up my skirt,                         skirt around the landmines,                         I’ve become an adept showgirl,                         tap dancing between your broken pieces,                         I perform the funeral song for the person that you want but can’t be             I know             I want you             you want something other. III. Robinson Township We’re drunk on Beam and champagne in a Microtel telling each other we’ll come back to each other like magnets or boomerangs, we drive through the drive through at Steak n’ Shake                         shake the Magic 8 ball                         ask it all the thorny questions you can’t ask me                         cause my replies are hazy                         and I’d play again but can’t             tell you             I better not             tell you now. IV. Oak Ridge We quietly lay in your childhood bedroom, these rooms that bred your dreams and idealized notions the notion of a halcyon me left in a mirrored closet in New Jersey butterscotch Schnapps on my thighs, your tongue,                         your tongue now in comprehensible to yourself                         muddled Italian and Spanish                         neither your native language                         I’ve tried but I can’t             talk like you             talk or interpret             your English. V. Greenwood Heights In an apartment with weeping walls and buckled floors, the sky smells sweet like donut and garbage, the city chockablock with opportunity for those who want a try                         I try again but I just complicate,                         my come-ons fall to deaf ears, numb hands, slumbering eyes,                         one sleeping and the other awake—I love you but can’t             this night             each night             after next. VI. Bloomfield Too warm for a January night, this calm for tells the storm Don’t let’s ask for the moon we have the stars, Bette Davis said, All I wanted was a man of my own, a child of my own, a home of my own,                         my home’s become broken, you’re a stranger                         I’ve become shrill, I’m a splinter                         I’m not like a wife, amiable and serene                         I’d force you to hold me in my fitful sleep, but can’t             separate you from             separate bedrooms.

return to SHAMPOO 34