Proposals

Fall Romance

I want to marry a terrorist,

get grit in my khakis

while I squat to pack munitions,

a blush of gunpowder on my cheek.

When we rut

I want to be hardly there at all,

a crater burnt and sifted after.

Knowledge

I want to marry a machinist,

to stand on the lot of the plant

in my hard had and visitor's badge watching

while he fits metal together,

measuring it carefully once it's in place.

I'll wear pink lipstick and a cotton dress

and bring baskets of warm cornbread

he can pass around.

For lunch we'll sit

on upturned buckets side by side

and his coveralls will smudge my thigh.

When they whistle as I walk away

he will smile at his steel-toed boots,

knowing what he knows.

Invention

I want to marry a used car salesman.

We'll make up stories

about the people who will drive

away in the Camaro or the Escort wagon

as we soap the windshields -

Real Honey, Runs Good, 1 Owner.

On Saturdays I'll dress up in the bear suit

and wave to the people driving by

in their old beaters.

As we leave the lot every night

we'll pick a different car,

depending on how we feel and

drive away

into the Porsche-red sunset.

Travel

I want to marry a nomad,

feed him greasy meat

wrapped in flat bread

cooked on a hot rock.

I want to smell rain

and know when to put up

the beasts.

I want to be sold for spices or camels.

When I come to my new husband

I want to spit and curse his eyes

before I dance.