NEEDLE

It was as gratuitous as a desperate needle
hanging out of my limpid blue-veined arm
pumping a drug through my blood.

like a narcotic slipping
slowly into my molecules,
his hands slid down the twisting sides
of my torso and past the narrow boundaries of my hips.

I shut peasant eyes in the semi-darkness.
This is what I'm supposed to do
to get over you. Right?

 After--
I scurried home as midnight chimed
and the wind picked up debris in the street.
A dirty earthy mist stained my face and it was then
that the deluge came.

The wind felt like his quickening and
desperate breath on my stricken face.
My shirt is half open and my jeans
cling religiously.

I wouldn't let him kiss me.
The fix wore off too soon.
Before the clock strikes one
I will lie in my bed, showered and cleansed--
the wind that was his breath
howling at my door.