Thursday, February 28, 2008

Love On Top Of A Washing Machine



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Love On Top Of A Washing Machine

She was sunlight interrupted
    on the soft-wood floors of my mind.
She was a breeze on a humid day
    that blows itself into a winter
     gale force across your face.

She was the salt water
    surrounding the boat
     lost at sea for centuries.

She rose and fell with every breath
She sparked life and snuffed death
She captured the inmates and in stealth
Fed them bread and stories for their health

She was a white prom dress
    in the black breezy night

She was every footfall before the bedroom door opens
And she was the smoke rising from my cigarette

She was the dirt and the detergent,
   the goods and the money
   the race and the standings,
   the inspiration and the song.

It was love from the rinse cycle,
And now she’s gone.



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