crossroads (poem)

The demon at the crossroads
looked a little nonplussed
when I walked over to my car
pulled out two folding chairs
and offered her one.

Don’t you want a deal, she said?

Maybe, I said,
but in the meantime I have no where pressing to be
and we might as well get comfortable. No one’s
going to be driving through the
circle and candles on THIS road
tonight. Have you got the time?

She sat gingerly, arranging hooves and tail, and
blinked again when I hauled out the thermos
and a spare cup. Tea? I ask.

It’s got a splash of whiskey.

She nods.

So I have a question, I said
of all the people you’ve given
ten years of greatness to…
…do you ever follow up to see what they do with it?

She sipped her tea.

Mikhail danced like god was lifting him up,
she said slowly. I sat in the front row
and expected to hear the flaps of His wings
but it was all….just there.

And that actress… one tilt of her eyelid,
and a whole world was conveyed.

I used to sneak in to Robert’s shows
and just stand by a pillar and… sway to the tune
night after night,
wrapping wreaths of cigarette smoke around myself
so he wouldn’t see me there, every time. I wanted
to give him another ten years
but my boss wouldn’t sign off on it.

She looked up at me.
Is that what you wanted to know?

More or less, I said. I’m sorry for your loss.

I poured her more tea.
We sat that way for a couple of hours,
whistling in the dark together.