Parhelion

How easily I lie to you,

my own parhelion, and all

to me that's beautiful.

You dream that I flew in

above the clattering of horse's hooves

and among a drift of roses.

A stable full of tumbleweed

to bed the blonding bride.

We spilled our fearsome treasures

on the deadened straw and half-moon light.

I played your love with plastic

and with stolen movie tickets

and a flower at the hour you awoke.

Was not your prince a princess?

And was patience so rewarded

when the vines were stripped

and evening broke?

a rippling of welkin at the crush of salty lips,

your lover wore a bandage

and a slender pair of hips.

With all the love to blind you

and the wine to will your hands,

you'd never dream of wishing

for a hard Nebraska man.

Were you too young to wonder

when the world made its discovery?

Or could you love without the asking?

And when I turned up bleeding

in the places I had never shown you,

didn't my love come and kiss me?

How easily I lie to you!

The boys are on the prowl,

should I catch the midnight owl,

or caress whatever's left of your disgrace?

This town is closing in on me,

and smaller here, and darker there,

how can I say goodbye to your face?

There never was a sea level,

there never was a star.

Except the ones I pushed into your body.

Believe me when I say

that I was every man for you.

I swear that all my lying

was the bravest form of truth.

How easily I lie to you,

my own parhelion, and all

to me that's beautiful.

I said that I was leaving,

but the train is gone, oh, was I wrong

to love you, to love you?

A thimbleful of heaven scudded

down your tender thigh,

and what was left to do but scurry

up that mountainside.

The people here will tell you things

to hurt you when I'm gone.

Just you never mind their jealous tongues, parhelion.