Poem of the Day: “owl division”

owl division

for a year, i divided my time
between hiking the forested foothills and canyons,
a solitary owl-headed hermit,
and writing in my little one room sanctuary
in the old Mesa Hotel overlooking the intersection
or dropping down to the street on occasion
to dip into bars and taverns
to flirt with my shadow

one night, in the Broadway Tavern
a woman in an owl shirt banked a blink at me
through the mirror behind the bar and said,
“i really like your beard.”
those first words to me were words
she would repeat to me throughout the night

later she asked to read some of my poetry,
“pick three” she said, “i want to know who you are”
so i did, thumbing through the little back-pocket notebook
a notebook i had titled deepening the map

she read them and cried and i felt both loved
and complimented by her tears

she revealed to me that she really liked me
and after finally asking to touch my beard
she took to scratching it vigorously,
making me feel like the happiest dog around

i wanted to love her back but did not know how
or what would be appropriate in light of the fact
that the man she was with was sitting next to us

she asked me to write a poem for or about her,
(later i couldn’t remember which it was)

this is it

it’s also my way of loving her back


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