Country Music Love

You are clearly pre­oc­cu­pied with love. See the way you sift
through the lint from your purse, search­ing for the back­ing of
an ear­ring. See the run­way of bro­ken leaves and bread crumbs
col­lect­ing under the emer­gency brake in your car. Messy, messy.
You wear your dirty denim jacket to the doctor’s office, you
push your nail beds back until they bleed. You fill your bath­tub
every sec­ond evening, pour large gob­lets of red wine, sit on
the sill of the tub naked, hold­ing the wine, wait­ing for the
water to cool. (You always run your baths too hot.) The day
begins with a whis­per and all day you whis­per to your­self. No
jazz, it hurts your head. No, you want a music that per­mits
the swag­ger of your heart, its lazy eye, its unkempt hairdo.