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Parking At Trolley Lane
by Walter Callonet
Grinning through the throbbing tune, her face
Glares back from the pane, but she cools her breath across
His neck, then huffs a long refrain. The moss
Is heavy, and falls like shredded rags and lace
In the rain; she loves amazed at this fecund place
And loves at Trolley Lane to feel the strong
Reptilian melancholy that's the song.
The noon bell honked. Beyond the track oaks brace
An old rail fence. He helped her up, her hair
Fell from behind her ears and over him
She leaned and for a moment kept him there-
And up like blowing brass came deep and dim
Then cool across his neck the loco air
And the nude dark long forgotten that's the song.
