So easily she took her place in my
sterile southern life, coming from
San Francisco hills to find she loved
me and not the short haired aviator
who thought she was his.  We have
stayed together for five years
flying back and forth by letters,
telephone lines and noisy jet rides.
Long curly haired, skin and bone
lady girl that I love.
She is wildness in sedimentary browns,
nervous moving fingers, a calm thin
lipped sigh, sensual soft strength
skin stretching finely over an ivory
skeleton, delicately carved form.
She is neatly putting all her notes
bound by a rubber band into her shoulder
bag.  Together we have seen the red
beach rocks, the weaving traffic colors.
We share secret longings and telepathic
talks, miles of water matter not.
She soars through my days and clutters
my night table, gold framed bikini
bodied with a blue backdrop, laughing
lightly at me, with me.
I am watching her from my window which
looks into houses of people I don’t
know and cannot talk to, she writes
I see her alive, doing laundry, playing
her guitar, wide eyed in the company of
women who prefer women, I am waiting for
our moment, it will come.
Lady of black night times, strolling into
lives, lean, leaning, looking out for
love in the changes of faces, places,
does anything really ever change?
Mar and me, we love.  We are locked in
love, her silky body, her thin arms
her serious eyes soothe me, move me
lovers linked in mind, bone and flesh splendor.
The author, Lynn Skapyak Harlin, and Marilyn.

Marilyn (left) and Lynn Skapyak Harlin (right).

Lynn Skapyak Harlin is a poet who made a living selling her words as a freelance writer, photographer, and newspaper reporter and correspondent. Her first published poem “War Waste” appeared in Time magazine, in 1970. Her work has appeared in Street Review, Arbus magazine, Section Eight Magazine, Florida Speaks, Aquarian,, A.C. PAPA and many others. Her two chap books, Real Women Drive Trucks and Press One for More Options were published in 1997 by Closet Books. She is an editor and leads the Shantyboat Writers Workshop on the Trout River.