When I get home from Sunday Service, I strip my pressed white shirt in the living room. I step out of my slacks. Peel off the tight black socks. I fumble naked for my dive skin, the black and blue ... [+]
Once
I encountered
Danger
in the shape of a man
and he fascinated me
with his reckless passion,
candid perverseness,
measured brutality
where all others to me
were kid gloves,
platitudes,
sweet and distant
like being romanced by the moon.
Until the night
he came to me
all swagger and grin
liquor low in his gut
bearing home with him
the spoils of buccaneering,
his collateral damage.
And in the morning
when he sobered
he had no remorse.
He hadn't the capacity.
So goes the nature
of wild men and wildfires
and fools (like me)
who think they won't get burned.
I encountered
Danger
in the shape of a man
and he fascinated me
with his reckless passion,
candid perverseness,
measured brutality
where all others to me
were kid gloves,
platitudes,
sweet and distant
like being romanced by the moon.
Until the night
he came to me
all swagger and grin
liquor low in his gut
bearing home with him
the spoils of buccaneering,
his collateral damage.
And in the morning
when he sobered
he had no remorse.
He hadn't the capacity.
So goes the nature
of wild men and wildfires
and fools (like me)
who think they won't get burned.
