She’s the puppet, but
he’s on a string in this story
He wears his pants a little too tight.
She loves to be pinched,
but not all night.
He’s the Ice Cream Emperor,
all he knows
melts in the sun, freezes in the snow.
She’s the Boogie-Woogie Witch.
Her lips are wise
and really quite smooth, except for the places
where they’ve been chewed
His legs are long and bowed and funny,
the hair on her head is soft as a bunny’s.
They live outdoors. They eat bear meat.
The feather of her thigh
tickles his teeth.
They wash in a basin the size of a nickel.
She calls him wise when he calls her fickle.
They drink nut-brown
the juices of a swamp, plant
pink roses in the middle of a romp,
blow down houses made of straw—
Wolfman and Woman! View them with awe.
They rinse out their wounds,
and tell them stories, and cheer up their scars
by calling them gory.
Sometimes they wake
in the middle of the night
and watch the moon or start a fight.
Then the stars come on
in waves that move
and darkness is a place that they can love.
They drive forever
in a hot pink truck.
God sticks out a thumb,
They pick Him up.