She countered her voluptuousness with the mundane.
Her looks, therefore, drove me insane.
You cannot imagine what it is like to walk
With beauty in a wool sock.
“I had no childhood,” she said—
I, being child-like, felt a cold dread.
She would watch golf in her underpants.
She didn’t sing, nor would she dance—
Except once, in tears,
As if exhausted by every bit of grief through the years.
I held her, swaying, close to my side;
I pressed her tears to mine
For ten minutes—ten little minutes I stuck by her side
And in my mind, I was by her side forever after:
Desperate, in an old house, holding on to a rafter.