she used to talk

like she knew it meant some thing



she said what she wanted

what she didn't want



enough to lead and bob and weave

boxing chatter tucking things neatly away





it was like he had a set of language records

played them over and over and never met



the instructor just grew to possess the voice and

phrases with the context of nerveless chit chat



that words meant actions meant the calm

water of a mirror



warm and simple and at hand



letting the man listen to the Swiss statement

accumulating interest in a vault



as if he had the number for the account

that she was with him and they were together



but she was running parallel like a submarine

packs pace with a convoy straggler



not that much menace

not that much intent



more a calculation of timing

filling in the circles of confiding



a formula for

cutting diamonds with her tongue



the reflection of everyone else's need



they drove back from the movie one night

the headlights turning the night snow



back into white snow and she saw nothing

he saw the movement on the road



300 yards ahead and slowed and stopped

the fox stood on the four foot high snow bank



waiting not looking at the car and them

but looking ahead and smelling the cold air



the fox didn't need them

the red fur reflected nothing



she said, "Isn't it beautiful?"

he decided in his head that he wanted



to sit and watch the fox more than he wanted

to be with the woman who wasn't really there