Grunge

No, sweetheart, I said courtly love. I was thinking of John Donne's "Yet this enjoys before it woo," but my big hands were dreaming Pinetop's boogie-woogie piano taking the ubiquitous night apart. Not Courtney. I know "inflated tear" means worlds approaching pain & colliding, or a heavenly body calling to darkness, & that shame has never been my truest garment, because I was born afraid of needles. But I've been shoved up against frayed ropes too, & I had to learn to bob & weave, to duck & hook, till I could jab my way out of a foregone conclusion, till blues reddened a room. All I know is, sometimes a man wants only a hug when something two-steps him toward a little makeshift stage. Somehow, between hellhounds & a guitar solo made of gutstring & wood, I outlived a stormy night with snow on my eyelids.