Flesh Wounds in Ithaca

Oh devils,
it’s true...

I can still fall
hard,
fast,
and foolishly
in love
in the blink of a brink.

All it takes
is a voice like Billie Marten’s
(velvet and British vowels),
and I’m done for.

Today it hit me,
right in the lobby
of a play.

She stood alone—
white sundress,
blonde like a boy's daydream,
jacket draped over gorgeous collar bones,
white roses blooming in hand,
waiting.

And then—
she spoke.
To me!
Complimented my Yankees hat.

Well hell,
now it’s official—
I still got it
(Bad).