Lady in Black

Reduced to something
assessed in a glance,
sixteen - bagboy.
Why did you take off
your sunglasses,
to thank Me?

Curious enough to ask me
for translation of symbols
found on her brown paper bag,
“ancient Greek” I mumbled,
my first love poem, unrecognized.

She came in black
for her last appearance,
suggested I bring
her bags to the car.
For the first time
she removed her scarf,
tossed her curls
to set them free,
wicked smile overcame
her elegance, “Want to see
what this ‘Vette will do?”

Fuel-injected black convertible,
little black dress above the knees,
in a heartbeat we’re in motion,
slam that 4-speed, feel that roar.
For forty years the endless moment,
never better ... never more.