THE RADIO LOW REAL SLOW
For Lucile Clifton
whose turn is it tonight to turn out the dark
capsize the light the window is open will
you close it baby come on let’s noodle
nibble ears fingers toes find ourselves
on the kitchen floor with the blender on
let me win all my money back in a high
stakes game to the bedroom door
serenaded by a string section and one large Tuba
how about we get off this couch and give
the night owl a twofer, carte blanche
to the greatest show on earth
then with lip-steam eclipse it
scoot your butt over here, baby
i want to whisper atrocious behavior in your ear
pull the moon down around your ankles
drop anchor
leave the door open the handle’s hot
let the seat of my pants unfold over
the seat of the chair tender waves of darkness
dear God let us never arrive until there’s absolute need
like our first kiss underwater in the backseat
of my car the radio low real slow
Shirley Horn tending to her piano
(Miles said she always liked to play it slow)
Errol fingering the sharps,
follow the key changes, baby,
C’est tu chanson beneath my window
when the stars were brighter
having been that way in the rearview
until dawn’s early, early light
having always been that way
our mouths cherry red
the sky’s wide birth of the sun
goose loose the thread of our hearts
and tie one mother lovin’ big fat bow around them
sweetie pie, lammykins,
when we were young baby, tired of talking.
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