Cold Turkey

Eyes like frosted glass;

Rhythm like a kind of hypnotic. He sang.

She danced. When he played

upon the lyre she was ecstatic.

And through it all she smiled coyly,

as if such a pleasure

was that for which she had been impatiently waiting.

When he stopped, though,

she looked bewildered.

He was quick to call it enchantment;

imagined it, as well, to be his own,

and would have had her in marriage.

She was young, I guess,

and didn’t know better.

Narcosis is like that. Such a high

is not to be scoffed. Any one of us

would have stood perilously

atop a pillar, or swum

the straits in lousy weather

to be with such a lover.

But the danger is afterwards:

A compensatory depression

beats to a different drummer.

Thus she didn’t even wait for the bans

to be promulgated. And she didn’t wait

to get knocked up either, before

she took the advice of an obliging serpent

and scooted.

It’s a big world, you know.

This Eve-in-the-Greek-tradition

had more sense than the other.