Transformation

Towards the end of the meal
I watch you pierce the raisins from your Waldorf salad
close your teeth around each individual one
then slowly draw them in with
lips which lured me in as well.
Our words are done
and you have paid too much
for the invisible carpenters still trying to repair me.
I won’t ask for anything more then
maybe I will
just stay a little longer
let me see the sun glisten through your hair
and let me sit here and believe
I have had desert.

I met a woman
on a mountain
waiting for me 
sitting with a frown
and a gun
asked me what I was doing 
on her property and I said
I had heard there was a she-devil
in these parts and wanted to see
for myself.
She looked at me with wild greedy eyes
invited me in for tea
fed me and we danced to Elton John
until two in the morning
whispered in my ear during 
“Sweet Painted Lady”
she was going to kill me 
with kindness.
The next day she was gone
I got dressed
and started descending

He sat in the dark
looking like light
said he was a brown Harlem boy shot
with a black gun
and saw the ebony fog
come to claim him 
at an unlucky age
thirteen with twelve dime bags
trying to be large renting
small pieces of heaven
where he would not go
a translucent street boy
sitting in an Irish pub
with no soul 
he said 
I have no soul.