Useless moon,
too beautiful to waste.
But you, my Cinderella,
have the midnight curfew,
a son waiting to be picked up from his den meeting,
and the fractured marriage weighing on your head
like a crown of thorns.
Oh my beauty,
it’s not polite
to keep me waiting.
To send me reeling into a spiral
and then to say good night.
I smoke a cigar,
play a tango,
gulp my gin and tonic.
Goddamn you.
Full moon and you’re not here.
I take off the silk slip,
the silver bangles.
You’re in love with my mind.
But sometimes, sweetheart,
a woman needs a man
who loves her ass.