She Exists
By Nicholas Shipman
QuailBellMagazine.com
QuailBellMagazine.com
She sweeps through town
a few magical Saturday nights a year,
that heartbreaker wind out of nowhere
with her glorious leather-clad thighs
gripping the chopper
her don’t-fuck-with-me boyfriend
built for her when he finished his time
and her hair is black fire
a net of it flying
to reel in lost souls
and everyone who sees her falls in love
and she treats them all
just the same when she bothers
to pause in her midnight ride
whipping through town on a magical
Saturday night and sometimes
I buy her a drink
and make her laugh, but I don’t
think she remembers my name
and when I move on she’ll forget
me entirely and still you’ll see her
screaming through town
on magical Saturday nights
and the net of her hair
will grip you inside and that’ll be
the best night of your life
but don’t ever think
with that fool-yourself hope
that you could catch the wind.
Nicholas Shipman is a poet originally from Boston who now resides in Richmond, Virginia.