I KNEW HER

 

I knew her in the ponytail days

when dreams were the only 

currency she needed 

like the cameras to Marilyn-

trouble always found her

and she was never the kind

to believe there's safety in numbers.

here she is, six inches taller and almost translucent.

beneath the fluorescent lights.

her voice tries to carry warmth

but even the way she says my name

has a mettalic tint.

her eyes are brilliant.

as they've always been.

brilliant and vacant enough to send

chills down my left arm.

winters are colder in the city

she says, but you don't feel it

untill the lights go out.

she congratulates me on my 'new freedom'.

sweeps a plantinum wave over her shoulder

and reminds me that melancholy will age me.

I tell her it's the only thing i can count on.

there is a metaphor

somewhere between us

but I'll leave it be

I dont want to take anything more from this.

I'm staring at ghost.

and she is fading away before my eyes.

I have so many questions that i don't want to know the answers to

so i listen and try to believe

in the postcards she paints

in the somber, stale cover of the night

I can read it on her cheekbones

and in the canyons beneath

and wonder how many strangers

have lost their stares in them

I knew her when she wasn't all

flash and fur and faux

and famous

in the kind of circles that end in chains.

I knew her

before they emptied her

and left her rattling with every

stilted step.