A good day is a minefield
eluding the devil with every step
as she smiles that sideways smile
with hair falling in her eyes.
I step past
to a more diligent place
where I can stay busy with an active brain
and not think about the lure of an open field
where the devil stands at the edge
waiting
watching
wondering
how long
before I give in.
which, of course, I do.
minefields are dangerous.
and sometimes you long for a break.
to be selfish.
to dream.
She points at me and curls her finger
leading me into a black-walled room
illuminated with candles
and a bed in its center.
Her robe falls away
and she slithers into the satin sheets.
I begin to applaud.
A slow, rhythmic pounding.
And I smile—
she nearly had me.
Again.
Then she disappears
and I’m back in a minefield reeking of corpses
taking another cautious step
and another
until I see her
standing there
naked
in front of a frothy sea.
I can smell the salt air
my skin begins to tighten
the warmth of the sun coaxes me in her direction.
I step past
and look for a place
to lay my head for the night.
***
