Remembered Poem

I am upstairs in my bedroom
with my hands on the keyboard,
downstairs in the kitchen
looking for my cap.
The telephone is ringing
maybe it's Mars,
I should be on my way.
What time is my hat?
It's Bone Daddy black.
When I get there—Guilford
not Mars, that's just her nickname—
we knock back some bottles
of beer and watch
My Own Private Idaho.
Don't ask me what happens—
she wakes me up when it's over.
We make love on her half
of the room she shares
with her father—he's out
of course. After we get back
into our clothes, she ties a sky
blue bandana around my head
and I take her shirt back off.
It sparkles and we take pictures
as if we already know
we won't much longer be this way.