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stork daddy
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on the radio on my way to meet you,
a country ingenue takes her story
of love
through truck stops
and nudity in front of the truly menacing
people - survivalists, born again addicts, and serial killers -
who we in malls and building families wish to ignore
until they will not let us -
the voices at our edges that we would have to be their kind of crazy
to admit we really hear,
even outside of the cable news.
and the chorus of the song
keeps asking me,
though i do not turn around the car -
why do we fall in love with dangerous people?
you are one of that number -
those people who make no attempts at damage control (fastidiously filling out resumes and applying for licenses) -
who place their survival,
their ongoing life,
in the hands of a larger world
of circumstance -
hoping that the car that picks you up
takes you not into the forgotten grain
fields near some gravel lot,
but into a new town,
where you'll do it again either way -
take that ride.
and amongst these people,
who are uneasily both angels and devils
to the ordinary days of others -
some come out of their addiction
to life at its primordial fight
and are saintly for it, and others are forever haunted.
for your part, you are not sure which yet will fill your days -
not sure if you'll ever read a book
that speaks of blood level drama -
as a recreation, at a poolside
or on a couch.
you spoke to me last of some misadventure -
you woke up, still sick and suddenly naked
in the bed of a stranger.
you told me it was just
a more extreme example
of what you'd come to know -
you don't need to be there
for men to enjoy you.
i pictured dancing with you slowly
to this song,
my hand supporting more weight
than it, in usual dancing, is accustomed to -
and i was whispering your conclusion,
and reassuring you,
"yes, this is always true of the dangerous people we love."
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