Hey

HEY

Don’t worry, she’s a heroine.
But, not like Joan of Arc or Marie Curie.
She knows how to keep the lowdown low.
Although, sometimes an alias has been known to be necessary
The change comes on -everybody knows-.
For she only keeps intimate relationships.
And she wears all her clothes,
for either friend or foe.
Even if through her second-hand silk dress
a stranger can easily find her skin.
This accident happens to be her favorite delight.
A man like a hound
comes to her mind this worn December night.
He’s coming on too strong;
everything about his nose is
by her politics wrong.
He’s ugly;
She forgives him.
The first thing she notices are his ankle-high argyle socks.
Similar to the same pattern her dead father would favor.
His old leather shoes are also all in a ruin.
Soles so obviously worn from walking from alleyway to barroom,
-hey if that’s the world she wants to live in.
The hour’s getting late -closing time.
Both are quite close;
stools to the brass,
last drinks hand in hand.
The famous clinking ice sounds this impromptu reunion.