Succubus
the recoil of you is
stalking me through evergreens
espied with amber eyes and the men’s cologne you favored
the last time I saw you, you wore a faded-blue ruffled shirt
like something Elvis may have discarded, yet dirty in a way
both of us couldn’t scrub free of
I saw the lines of travel in your face, as keenly as my own reflection
a sharing of madness, the opal too exquisite to turn away from
there are forks in roads, splitting survival from living dying
I had long borne the latter; a felted outline in my prescription
you knew this, as palpable as you knew how to con and lie and deceive
we were after all, born on the same day, 11 years separate
few things are coincidence; how broken people end up
standing by the same pool of oil, reflecting color in darkness
I could have met you in a bar, drinking yourself damaged
but neither of us frequented them any longer
you were cleaner than I ever was
maybe it was Protestantism versus the Catholic
or the run of madness in me turned cold, whilst yours
flamed magical
I heard shattering pain in every ounce of you
and I couldn’t help even myself
as you drove off, I wanted to say
words that didn’t exist for splintered people
and for once I was certain
gut-instinct doesn’t trick
walk away, it said
even as you are
lost and wanting
this is a mal road
both of us
two sides of the same
flattened coin
And at my inner ear I heard a few lines of a song about advice from an old gambler.
“You’ve got to know when to hold ’em
Know when to fold ’em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run”
There have been people attractive to me and attracted to me in regard to whom that advice was clearly the best.