she took the kids to school and
we talked over coffee, about everything,
from art to sex and the art of sex. we spoke of
the weather and moments and truths that changed by the second,
and death. she was fearless.
she was all
lilac spring perfume
powder blue T-shirt,
red hair from a box,
topped off with some of
the nicest torn faded jeans
you could ever want your lover in.
she swore like a trooper
and loved like her life depended on it.
fuck she loved. she loved hard,
then sweet and hard again.
she slams down her hand on the counter over late movie charges,
"...a Will Ferrell movie too! thirteen dollar charge, can you imagine!!"
now as my head reels in these memories
i recall that this was my day.