VERSIONS OF TIME
She was working the summer topless
when some fool outloved by flesh
walked right in, sat right down
front, and strained and beamed.
Pretty titties stood for all the beauty
he could see. He strained to try to guess
who she was or where she’d been
coming from. Something was shining
out of her that he wasn’t set to get.
From the stage she saw him googling
her hard, so when he stepped out
to smoke, she made sure she showed
up in front of the club. One sidewalk leap
was all the presentation she could stand.
For years the stories he’d told himself
about how their kiss had played went out
one ear but never came out the other.
They would’ve put his grandchildren to sleep.
For years the memory of how she’d felt
when she asked him to never call or
email again would bubble up then burst.
Who outside the palace would listen or care?
Fruit matures, leaves drop, memory sweeps up
stuff that happened long before it happens.
Al Young
Copyright © 2008
