He had been with too many women,
a jaded young man.
Then she walked into where he worked.
Sunset in his heart, blaring bleeding colors.
Flaming, forest fire hair.
Olive skin, snake smooth.
Green eyes, flashing like a temple idol,
a fox with sharp teeth.
Got her phone number
was at her house the next night.
The next night a date ending in bed,
Wild, raucous.
Asked her to marry him—She laughed.
Asked her to marry him again—She laughed.
Clothes strewn, helter-skelter.
She did not answer the phone for several days,
fuck and run as he had done,
dusk in his heart,
hunting through darkness, cut hands spread the jungle reeds.
Finally they talked.
"I too have been not wanted."
Originally published in Fleas On The Dog