I’ve slept with her,

I’m going with her,  I guess,

because she’s eager,

and because she’s so...

appealing;

but when I saw you once again this afternoon,

dark eyes,

I remembered all those hours

I spent in class, across the table,

studying your fingers, long and slender,

examining your rings, turquoise and silver,

and wondering if any of them might be

a wedding band, or an engagement ring.

I’ve slept with her,

I’m going with her, I guess,

but tonight I lay awake, alone,

and I have left the softest touch of snow

against my twisted sheet

in your memory,

dark eyes,

dark eyes.

                                    (1977)

 

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