i meet an older woman
she's an artist, a painter
whose passion to create
has always been driven by sex
she loves sex, she says
teaches tantric lovemaking
even though she's aged,
put on a few pounds,
and can't quite enjoy it
like the old days
it fuels her vision
as she pours out her heart,
sweats on a canvas
that stands steadfast
where her lovers used to be
she married three men
and divorced just as many
as the monotony of monogamy
always reared its monotone head
i ask her if she feels
her desires are what drove her
from the men who bravely
or foolishly called her 'wife'
of course, she says,
they always wanted her to be
a woman she never was
she loved them, but some people
just can't be married, you see
it does more harm than good
but she's happy now
living alone, painting,
she has a grown son
who works in D.C.
as a liberal lobbyist
(she doesn't really get along
with his father very well,
the true love of her life, she admits
and the one husband she regrets failing)
she asks about my personal life
girlfriend? relationships?
i decline to get into it
when an older gentleman
wanders up and extends his hand to her
she catches his eye
with a beautiful smile
and i walk away
as she falls in love
all over again
