We Learn To Sell Ourselves Early In Life - Poem by Braden Coucher
In street light serenade
In silent smile, she heard me her lover.
“Come dance with me! ”
With working man’s sweet potato hands
I played the promenade grasping her hipbones.
And twirled her
skirt about the street.
Those shaky, blue leather bound feet
Two stepping hasty barter
With eyes like her mother she’d seen in me
My center climbing directly above her shoulders.
By Portland puddles in we danced to an orchestra
of douglas firs-wish wish swish.
Entwined and unlimber we’d grown
As flowers too tall, heads too heavy
Exhausted, we retired
The promenade, rose city streets
paused abruptly at the cusp
Of an alder and park.
Led to four and then
Stiff as December pine she hunkered down right
There on the waterfront.
The pines raised above us
The needles off the record
And dance floor just a
those black and white checkers.
She’d picked a dandy
Lion from the berooted crack, pavoned her tiny soaking velvet slippers
to the lounge
Where the song is the birds
She sat panting, stained by the soil
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