Thursday, February 27, 2014
Aphrodite got into my automobile.
She lit a cigarette and said, "Take me away
From this nonsense . . . or maybe I should take the wheel."
We were surrounded by creatures from a Noh play,
A thousand goblins, samurais, ghosts, and warlords.
We sped off from those beseeching, sex-addled hordes.
Alone with her, I saw a matron, past her prime,
In a Persian coat with a tattered gray collar.
"I know what you're thinking," she said, "that I'm
Old and tired, a spent vessel, not worth a dollar."
She was still as beautiful as eternity.
I looked in the mirror: "You mean a lot to them."
"That rabble?" she replied, "they aren't even men!
The gods conjure them up to taunt and torture me."
She touched my cheek. I turned to her. The car was empty.