Les Rêves Canadiens

                    One Life, Semi-Detached

                    Goodbye, lady.
                    We lasted too short to know.
                    Five nights - a brief irridescence.
                    Flashing past with orgasmic intensity:
                    Wednesday slamming into Sunday.
                    Dead on Monday.
                    Monday mourning.

                    So long, girl.
                    Fly away, go.
                    Like a tennis ball, used:
                    Adrift and abused.
                    Shuttled from love to desire - scared
                    That your heart's made of snow.
                    And always afraid it'll show.

                    Sail away, love
                    Didn't happen this time.
                    Maybe loving is just as good.
                    What's left made this short time right.
                    Sail on into the night.
                    Goodbye, lady. Good luck.