Songs for Joni Michell

when the conversation died down she paused knowing it was too easy;

it reminded her of all the best things in life that had gone wrong

in the end (but it will all be all right in the end). all the maps she had drawn

of Canada on bar napkins, all the chords already written:

the kind of interaction that certain species of human

had mastered, the right words, the right Freudian

slips of the tongue. I bet you say that to all the boys,

he said, smilingly. it was like fireworks. the kind the movies

talked about. Like feeling arms wrapped around you,

and the burst again and again of color, a smothering

of heat on cheeks  as the sparks rain down across the sky.

I saw their reflection inside you,

saw their flight illuminate your face out

from the darkness that too many years running

had paved. Drinking cases-of-you under stars in unseason-ably

warm air. One day soon I will not fear coming to stand full out

into light. Every flaw measured and beloved. I will bend and

open and pray. I will do it all and sooner than I

can possibly imagine. I have a whole-year's-secret

full of thorns in my skin and it's not even June yet.

I know that finding you suspect says more about me

than anything else.