Innuendo

They meet
(not for the first time, of course)
over cigarettes and a sunrise.
"I'm not in love with her,"
whispers the girl --
they embrace, while
embers like shooting stars
under the veil of dawn
fall to the ground.

In bed
they grope desperately for love
and find instead a unicorn --
lust wafts across damp skin,
the beast raises its head
and in a moments time
they find a thousand reasons
to begin everything again.

She wakens
in pain.

Sorrow
and a life of misery,
shackled housewife and petty thief,
unconscious drifter muttering
in the blue haze that settles
heavily around the room.

We,
the free spirit
of the unbeholden,
who dream in stereo
and rush headlong into lightning,
live merrily in darkness.

At dusk
she weeps.

Sphinx and mother,
zephyr of lies,
creator of life --
do not bleed alone.