MAX'S DAME.

A MAN AND HIS VISION OF A WOMAN.

In the time it takes
For Max to light a
Match, she’s gone

And only the image
Of her remains, that
Holds there in mid air,

Just long enough for him
To breathe her in and
Swallow slowly into mind

Or soul (or psyche as the
Ancient Greeks would name)
For a later time, and then

Lighting the cigar he draws
In and wonders where she
Went or if she was ever

There and how could one
So beautiful, so serene, so
Out of this world, be ever

Wanting to be visiting him
Anyway; just a dream he
Guesses or an unsober

Moment when the light
Caught the room in such
A way, and deceived his

Eyes and mind, and that
Was how it was and is and
Will be he supposes, reaching

Out for the beer and staring
Out of the window at the
Empting night, thinking of

His phantom woman who
Came and went and, oh, so
Unsettled his drunken sight.

Reviews

[just rose.]

I like the chimera of longing expressed here, just those brief instants we sense and can't share with anyone because they're so ephemeral it's almost as if they never existed. And yet they're so powerful they come to define a good measure of who we are.

[GBU POETRY ONLY]

Don't know why but Bukowksi popped into my head... No grit, no blackened smoke rings but Max's Dame does have a flavor of delightful aromatic vapors conjured up by lit matches & cigars filled with cherry woodsy tobacco ...Loved 2nd, 3rd & 5th verses alot... Great opening & ending ... Bravo, TC !!
GBU