Aries

Love was the eyes
in two blue cars,
a Beetle and a 2002,
rushed by the traffic
and the question:
"Where's East Virginia?"

She didn't attend the business dinner.
The champagne bottle lost to a carafe of Greek wine,
filet mignon to feta cheese and cucumber salad,
elevator music to a Bouzouki tune,
discussion of sales quotas to a belly dancer.

She didn't know I discovered
the Pandora's box by her bedside
and found a chunk of camphor there.
I opened a bottle of Rothchild,
and sat with the mirror,
line by line writing a poem,
and not knowing what's enough, continued.

When she left for New York
I watched her place,
reading his letters from London,
looking at pictures of a school trip to Kenya.
She came back with a pack of Picasso
still-life postcards from the Museum of Modern Art.
I have one of them--
a faint wavy violin
among floating objects
framed in blue.