My downstairs neighbors were out for the night seeing the Clash in Cleveland
Which meant it was ok for Jolene to practice her flamenco routine on my linoleum
Kitchen floor in just Cuban heels & T-shirt having uncurled from the bed just a moment
Before & I still couldn’t move even one muscle as the riveting gunshot rhythms
Began to ricochet through my little apartment but I rose up on one elbow
To answer the clanging of the phone on the floor right by the mattress & it was my
Once friend Elijah still way PTSD after five years in country & out & before I could try
Closing the bedroom door he asked Are those shots? as he heard the flamenco’s crescendo
& I said Yeah but nothing serious just some assholes popping off at the frog pond
Then he started up telling me he didn’t know where his wife was but when he did find out
He’d kill the motherfucker she was sleeping with & it went on like this a while before
I said Good luck & I had to go & just then Jolene stopped dead in her steps & peeled off her T-shirt
The sweat pouring off her as I walked over to wrap both arms around her & hold on a moment
Before I told her I guess you better go home now that was Elijah calling & she asked me
What did he want? & I said Just you