Outlaw Irises

I know she’s at the concert now
but I can’t make it out of town to be there,
and she likely wouldn’t see me
in the first place.
I wish I could take this part out of me,
like a single gear lifted from a pocket watch,
but all these machinations aren’t so simple
spreading slowly over everything I feel.
Being around her is like standing next to
the Grand Canyon, or maybe seeing
the night sky for the first time
without the extra light between our
outlaw irises.
It is so colorful I have to give my
whole mind just to hold it for an instant.
I am afraid of what I’d give to do the same
with her for even half the time.
I take an evening ride without a destination
over gravel roads that barely break the tires
and all the wires up above change to the dark
frames of her glasses bent in such a way
to mimic how a cat’s eye curves with luster
and revision.
I don’t know why she told me
she would be there in the crowd somewhere
dancing to the music she has listened to
so many times with fading makeup on her eyes and car keys in the gaps between her fingers.
I let the rainbow forking outward through
the vodka bottle hit me in the retina
until it vanishes in another drink
poured across the room for someone
who can pay for things like drinking tabs
and service tax.
At four that night they toss me out
and leave me in the parking lot,
and all I’ve got, is this pattern in my mind
that I do not want to go home just yet, and
all this sidewalk makes it sure I never will.

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