she went to Tahiti

That’s what she told us
whenever she came back
to outpatient after in patient
at a local hospital psych ward
and had to explain herself
so she always said she had
been in Tahiti. Her devotion
to metaphysics helps me
make sense of the tragedy
of her sudden death in a
traffic collision, when she
finally started to find herself,
her hair cut off in a Harpo Marx
defiance and her jokes to me
about my many ridiculous
winter hats after a Christmas
in Idaho which I bet her was
nowhere near as good as Tahiti.
I stand here in the glow
of lit memorial candles
so I can tell her to say hi
to my girlfriend and my Mom
and Marlon Brando in Tahiti,
and that I’ll see them again
some sunny day along exotic
shores where mad hearts
and mad minds never die.

the truth will get you laid

She makes the first moves,
I am terrified I will make
the wrong moves. Her sigh
tells me she is about to give up.
She asks me, what is wrong?
I look at her with innocent
wide eyes and tell her
I am shy, which leads
to the longest moment
of my life there in the silent
darkness of her bed. She
embraces me underneath
her pillows, where she
whispers, in a sultry voice
that I am “hot shit” before
she begins to eat me alive.