Judy Katz-Levine

THE GIRL WHO REMINDS ME OF A FRIEND

I am with the red-haired girl. Under her rebellious standing on the tire swing and rocking I am with her. Though I tell her no, she thinks I mean yes. She rushes to the scooter and punches the boy with cobalt kippa and hanging fringes who loves to dress in a black skirt; punches the shouting boy who bosses, too. The red-haired girl grabs another girls' shirt and bites the tablecloth and bites skin. When I open the guitar she rushes to be near me--you can't play now I tell her. But she grabs the strings and thrums a wild chord; up to the vineyard in the rafters, the shoulders of the friend I'll sit with tonight, like grape vines in sea wind.