Tuesday, July 21, 2009

Menage a tois (a Boston poem)

I. We polished off sixteen ounces of So-Co 
on a Tuesday night, savoring the last 
few swallows around four a.m. We were watching 
West Side Story and Tom cried 
when Tony fell dead, when Maria stood up 
for nonviolence. Whitney said she didn’t 
like the movie. As always, I was somewhere 
in the middle, content to hum and sing 
about love and rumbles and all things passionate. 

 II. Tom colored the nails on his right hand 
black with Whitney’s good Sharpie 
and drew symbols of anarchy on his wrist. 
While she was in the bathroom, he asked me 
what else he should draw. I said a heart. 
He put an arrow through it. 

III. It was the nicest thing anyone had ever said 
to me -- “You know, honestly, I have to say, any man 
who has even had the chance to touch you 
is the luckiest man...” Oh, that Tom, 
who told me again that I should call 
 the lead singer in his band. I balked. Whitney sat 
 beside the bassist with her arms folded across her chest.

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