you are not
you are not
you are not a billy collins poem and though poems are about you i am not sure you are poetry
in motion or otherwise
you are not the surf or the surfboard you are the beach that the surf and surfboard run to, then run back
you are clean sheets and candles with no overhead lighting and the romance that you ask to be brought with a bottle of wine
you are not the great love you are barely the woman who ran away with the trumpet player which hopefully is a good story told every labor day
you are not the woman with pearl earrings the woman descending the stairs or petroglyphs found in a cave
you are barely a college essay on de kooning
you are not the chartreuse or the femme fatal but you were the victim in my first two murder mysteries
you are a woman with big breasts that never fit into a bathing suit not in that way that would make you a reality star
you are long legs that needed massaged ego that demands to be stroke and lady parts that begged be worshiped
you are not greed or joy or gluttony but possibly you are envy because who better to know what others have, but can't have and to jump over the fence
you are reason to leave toledo reason to write another poem about the definition of inadequacy the reason to spiral to rock bottom with self-doubt as a really bad parachute
if billy collins was to write a sequel to his litany poem he would not call me for notes on your id he would not e-mail me or throw a bottle in the hudson
did i mention how well you played the victim
no mr. collins is a professor somewhere not thinking about me running off with one of his poems like it was a trumpet player at an arts festival
you are the prescription found at the bottom of a duffle bag for a case of chlamydia a mysterious infection that points blame on someone
of course you are great inspiration and someone has to thank you for that