Self -possessed idiot
And I, playing the game,
The “I understand
This older woman man-child’s game.”
I kissed him.
His breath tasted like a baby’s,
Like a fruit I cannot name.
I was young but I felt old,
Rotted, compared to his freshness.
He was delicate and beautiful like
A teenaged god,
Small and vulnerable.
Ah, but his meanness was so masculine.
I had visions of a Nazi camp.
He was a stupid, self-possessed soldier
I was a Jewish woman
He wanted me and that tension
Was the only beauty available to me.
All his power came from
Unspeakable pretenses
Incomprehensible mind games of immense power.
Young David Bowie, young Bacchus,
Weak, inside,
Like the morning of a vision dreamed at night.
As if I were his prisoner,
He fed me
French brie and wine.
I ate and gave myself to the dream
Like a goodbye
Like the first and last time.
I was going to play the game,
Just this once.
I’d push him back into the dream,
I would have peace,

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