the angel of van horne avenue

(a black comedy)

I spent the night
drawing her naked
from memory.
I drew her thighs
her hips and her
sacred places.
But when I tried to draw her heart,
my pencil broke

I spent the night
listening to her
tell her story.
All her shame, all her
secrets all her pain
she poured out, into me.
But when I asked her for a corner of blanket,
my cell phone cut out.

She said she wants to
see into my soul,
I booked us a room
in a downtown hotel.
The soundtrack to our lovemaking
was Hitler sobbing into his pillow
in the four dollar room upstairs.

I spent the night
trying to convince her
to marry me.
I cut out my heart
my eyes and my
but the blood made the ring slip
right off her finger.

I spent the night
praising her brilliance
and beauty.
She was the Angel
of Van Horne Avenue,
my girl of golden days
I left her that morning,
for Nathalie.

This entry was published on 01/14/2011 at 1:34 am and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

3 thoughts on “the angel of van horne avenue

  1. Always loved this one – a black comedy and a self inflicted tragedy

  2. Clearly a very personal voice from a painful episode – and you allowed us a dimly lit view of each pathetic scene

  3. What a love poem! Who says they all have to have happy endings?

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