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60.  After the Argument

 
Three months after the argument
The steel blue collar of his sweater
Twisted up as his head careened sideways
And the lunch invitation was released
Like the snorting bull before the matador.
We ate triggerfish with cakebread wine.
Everything in the bistro was lamb white.
His lips were a bitten plum
In the dying candlelight.
My hands went amnesiac and blind
To map him for the first time.
We waved on the trolley
And walked the hexagon lawn.
We silenced the cicadas at the bruise black lake.
We stopped at the bench where he first entered me.
He said, "Do you remember halloween?"
I laughed like a ghost in his dream.