I'M Sorry Rita Poem by Bernhard Emil Bruhnke III

I'M Sorry Rita

Rating: 4.0


The curtains are covered in black eyes,
(but with a Hostel in Meinz, what past could see so different)

while the light of the world intrudes the face of my new regrets
with the cotton shuffle of morning.

(How did she see me so well?)

I can’t find a mirror that tells me something forgiving,
or a sink that will make me feel like I didn’t wipe my eyes with a g+++++n ashtray.

The German air is staring at my unbuttoned memory
dressing quickly towards the door.



'SVIE BIER BITTE! '
That was my anthem of the night before.
My gunshot request was a hollow shout compared to the
shoveled glances and empty thoughts returned to me.

Just another demigod, walking through a
garden of conversation and smoke.
How sometimes they are just the same.

Until she came to me,
dancing her two tricky fingers up my shoulder.
Froulein Rita,
she loved my smile and the sound of my broken German,
keeping after me with another pint to drown in.

She made her name in the copper night,
with a face that Sam Cooke used to sing about,
with a body he forgot to mention.

There we were.
Two drunken apples sharing a pine avenue.
Talking over half read books,
the shaft of currency,
and how we always hear our heart beating beneath the trees.


We smuggle to the back chairs next to the
forgotten jukebox.
She sweetens the air with Cole Porter
and Bobby Short.
She told me
“They touch the keys the way you touch a woman”

Her smile grew warmer with every inch of Dexter Gordon’s “Round Midnight”.

Yet in the muffle of dialect squawked the local sleaze,
they tasted her face all night.
+++king her behind their liter mugs with crack shot eyes.

Mumbles of 'American Faggot' smuggled through the air.

The night was smothered, but we were distant
....almost carved into our interaction.....
two worlds weeping the same blood.

She bent into me with slithering hands.
Eyes sinfully aching.

Her breasts held together by a shadow,
her cheeks biting into mine.

We gave each other a buzzing stare
and for a moment we were both dissected.

The lightning of my path was unearthed,
she walked into my eyes and could see me without secrets,
she tasted in my mouth a memory that covered me like Louisiana rain,
she saw an echo that was constantly reaching behind me,
breaking her journey to our embrace.


With a wounded stare
she whispered in my ear,
kissed my lips with her thumb,
disappearing with a vacant grin.

She said 'Your eyes are too beautiful to be a mans.'
She walked away,
knowing there was a woman living in them.

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