Monday, May 10, 2004

After Listening to Bob Dylan Unplugged for the First Time
Bob Dylan, put down your guitar
and make love to me; okay, maybe
my expectations are too high;

put down your guitar right now
and squeeze me, and I don't mean
in a no feeling kind of way,

I mean just stop what you're doing
and come over here, because your music
is moving inside me, and I want you to, too.

But now your voice is trembling.
It never did those low dips before
going inside the circles of your shirt,

as I look into your eyes past your sunglasses
because you took them off
to see your fans

standing in the warming hut
of your truth-telling music
while our country's leaders

believe peace
isn't good enough,
too wishy-washy,

a woman's excuse
to get out early.
Conjur woman's polishing

her lower lip
with a thumbnail.
Heal my broken wing.

You know that, Bob.
Peace is a woman's way
to clear out the house.

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