The Women I Love

The Women I love

One is a widow who closes her eyes.

One makes love with fractured English.

One talks in her sleep with foreign tongues.

One mistook me for a sane man.

One is divorced for too long.

One is married to a grumpy groundskeeper.

The other ran away with a gypsy.

Another is too far away to remember my age.

The rest are all born again virgins

who laugh when I make a pass.

They are my afternoon lovers

who leave their luggage in the hallway

while smiling, drinking, and smoking with dreamy eyes

remembering of a time when it all mattered.