more than blue

she didn't have the golden tattoo!
i looked at her over the years
and didn't know what more to do:
i might have been wrong but there was more to her than blue.
her black eyes
registered constant surprise
whenever they focused on you
They made it hard to know what was false, what was true.
and it never helped to walk on by:
she could stop you with a gentle laugh, a wounded cry,
or a smiling knowing eye
which told stories of life on the high seas.
one time standing she said please!
one time sitting she took a stance,
a puzzling one, an almost enjoyable romance.
and where better than solidly on the ground:
a kiss without a passing sound;
a dream which lasted beyond the day,
into an opening night
like the idea of Venus she disappeared out of sight
into the next room
wearing her costume.
But I liked the way she danced at the ball:
one moment short of breath, the next tall.
she did it all for show
and if anyone would ask, i'd tell them i still don't know
how she managed to have another go.
she didn't have the golden tattoo!
i looked at her over the years
and didn't know what more to do:
i might have been wrong but there was more to her than blue.