It's Now Too Late
This poem's to a corpse
and no matter how I force
there never will be a chance
for her to see this lance
my gentle thrusting love
she now is far above
somewhere in God's sweet heaven.
I saw her during the winter
and wasn't subtle
didn't hint at her
I just told her right out loud
I picked her from the crowd
because she looked so trim.
Did she dance to stay this thin?
She wasn't more than twenty
experiences she'd had plenty
an aggressive courageous tyke
for whom I nurtured a like
a definite lusting to be sure
but for whom I sensed some fright.
It was as if I feared some night
she'd end up with bad company.
Not in any way jealous or
I just worried about the quality
or lack of it potentially.
I'd phoned her quite a lot
we couldn't quite mark the spot
she was going to drive down the hill
and maybe even fly to Woodland Hills
but, alas, none of it came to
It's strange how I can hold the longing
to someone without belonging
and yet, for her I was on hold
and now the time's gone cold
and my trip to ski with her
had no meaning whatsoever.
See, I called to follow my letter
to check and see how much better
we could make things with a visit
and when the woman answered
it was like a cold and cancered
message that cut right through:
She's dead, can I help you?
She's what? I reflexively cried,
oh, yes you see she died
driving down the hill near Big Bear
the guy was drunk, they swear
and the door flew open and the truck................
I guess it's just bad luck.
Her loss has really struck
another chime for joy
Happiness depends for me, on this one boy
being able to create and share.
Thanks for the lesson, Niki.
I'll miss you in Big Bear.