Zen chicks

Thing about Zen chicks, Buddy,
thing you gotta know,
is they’re already pretty much gone
the day they roll into town

Zen chicks tap into energy, Buddy,
you and me got no names for:
two weeks after they arrive
they have more friends than you,
a better job, a nicer place,
and a boyfriend —
and if that’s you, Buddy, if that’s you . . .

She falls into your bed
easy as snow into a hemlock forest
energetic as a blizzard
irresistible as a snowdrift —
Buddy, the cold you feel
so bracing it’s like being born again,
only handsome this time

You’re a steady sort, Buddy,
you want a life you can understand —
you make your plans, but forget
that you can’t schedule a Zen chick

And in no time spring rolls around
and she melts into the ground
as gone as she’s always been,
the ice tongs of surrender
hard on her busy heart
lifting her into what
you are going to call heartbreak, Buddy,
and she is not going to bother naming —
that Zen spirit in the air
like a northbound goose . . .
and you, Buddy, one big ache
standing in the thaw below
with a crick in your neck
beside a pickup truck
with snow tires on

# #

—by Greg Blee, from my 2005 chapbook, Verse & Perverse.

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