Indian Summer, bathing

“You do it to me.” –Proverbs

Indian Summer, bathing
this lower canine smile and
stubble-studded skin
holding a voyage of rain.

There is a proferred cigarette
and plastic teacup filled with beer,

stories of past penthouses,
burnt dollars,
and the forged signature
of a 91-year-old Hell’s Angel
for his store of assistance cheques.

There were three wives:
the first a hellcat
flagrantly cheating
with her purveyor of coke,

the second a Czech beauty
forever undone by loss:
too-distant parents,
too-suddenly turned
to memory.

No mention of the third.

If it could happen to Dave…

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