CHERCHEZ LA FEMME

Arched eyebrow
Arched like a door in California
Through which your flashlight shines
Like the beam of a lighthouse over the water
We see a couch
Stripes
A vase to break
The white telephone, but
Not the reason it’s used once a day.

You remember the girl who sat there
With her hair set in waves
And that incredulous stare
Grown green
Like cement pillars
Under the bend of bridges connecting bays,
The thin line of her arched eyebrow
Opened easily to you
Like a door ajar in California
Where police tape hangs.

With your bright flashlight
We see round pieces of
The wall
A plant
And a shadow of a
Plant on the wall,
It’s black leaves dance and sway, but
It’s green leaves say nothing
Nothing at all like your luck in this town
Nothing at all like the telephone’s
Cold unanswered ring.

You know something ain’t right
She can swim that’s for damn straight
And that envelope
On the desk
By the silver picture frame says
“A”,
That empty initial
Black and arched like her eyebrow
Bent like a bridge in California
Over the dark bay
Where a flashlight only picked up
The water from a broken vase.

The girl that sat there
The day before with her hand on her knee
And her skirt in the way of
Fitting together
Those bright rounded pieces,
The who’s and the how’s and the what for’s
All cast shadows that sway and
Conceal the reasons why
You come back everyday.

With the beam of your flashlight  
We see the creases of her voice
Open
A confession in thin stripes
A sort of truth in
Black and white,
We can only read however
The deep lines on your face
And the shine in your eyes
Upon knowing
The cement that was set was to sink you.

In the heat of your smile
She had looked cooly
Right at you
And her black eyebrow had been
Arched like a door in California
Shady and welcoming on a sunny day
Water dancing in the bay, but
In the stare of her eyes
Was green incredulity
Like your luck in this town
And like her unanswered telephone
They said nothing.