Rita

Sometimes we have to pray, when she bends to kiss you, manner easy in her own way, music is playing, love lights in her tune, somewhere down the alleyway, when she calls for rain, all the world turns blue, guilt is washed away, the moon her nosegay, for what she's doing, she knew the transatlantic trade, her long twang and gait, gives everything its due, she pulls at my traces, makes love her cradle, doesn't care a hoot, whispers for me to stay, in her eyes bitter fruit. that haunts a face makes you feel brand new. you listen for the make, shudder with each wine, think of your next engagement, the evening gloom, other shipwreck signs, draws fire,tips the pace, of someone else's purlieu, learn to dance don't get blue, ignore those with cool untruths, hit me with more wine. go to sea, get out of hand, or come to see you, the decks that grace her due, each sea green evening, barefoot she prays for glue, better than that bitter grease, if she is to be free, between worrying about disease, or dancing on Hawaii, what she'd like to do. wriggle up to someone new