Outdoor Room

There was a rubber band in me

you plucked and it would pluck and hammer

as I waited in the dark, any breeze

that was from the window

to relax in order to drive home—

jittery, to come down, pull my limbs

together.

Those high, hot days—the air, more of it

up there. Then again night, the pool lit.

A ready thing. You’d bring out the mattress,

breathe at the nape of my neck

& I’d go all slick and guttering.

We were young then when the oaks watched

you ruin me with attention.