When I love a man, I will climb on the back of his scooter on a balmy summer night wearing only a t-shirt and a thin cotton skirt.
There are things I won’t say:
Where are we going? Or, It might get cold, or, Maybe I should stay home and work.
Because he loves me, he will stop before the road turns up the mountain, rub a palm across my knee, and he will say, Are you OK?
What he means is, Are you warm enough? Are you sure you want to go further?
When I love a man, I will rest my hands loosely on the bones of his hips, hooking my thumbs through his belt loops. I will lean forward and tell him,
It’s going to be a beautiful evening.
He will know that what I mean is,
Let’s wring as much wonderful as we can out of the twilight of our lives.
Last February, I began making a Valentine, which I talked about here and here. Because February 2015 was a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad month, I didn’t finish it. When I came across it in July or so, I tossed it. It hurt too much to think of finishing it. But I thought of it the other day and went looking for the poem fragment, which I knew was different from the last version recorded here. I think I will not try to revive this card for February 2016. I need something all new. But I wanted to get this version into my notebook.