St. Patrick's Poem by R.B. OBrien

Contrived on a grainy park bench
with a pen in my hand
and the sun on my face,
I drew you effortlessly
as I looked at St. Patrick's
across the street
through the cracks of light
between the oak trees
and wondered if I'd marry you in it
and kiss you fervently
against the coarse wood of the pew
in front of everyone
who had fantasized
about what we had done
with our clothes off
in the hot heat of that summer
like a neo-classical ballet
against the glassy reflection
of the lake where we swam.
I saw you light a cigarette
against the figment of my heart,
black and smoky stains,
your existence,
muted with the opalescent colors
of my imagination.
I sat there
and crossed and uncrossed
my long, sunburnt legs,
sore from the exhaustion
of being good
and behaved
and trained.
The clouds rolled
across the cerulean sky
with steely vigilance
to hide the ephemeral happiness
of anything remotely squeezed out
from the heightened cry of the birds.
And my loneliness was heard
in the deepest hollow of the dirt.

(from Ruin My Lipstick)