ALBERTO MOBILIO'S DAWN

No more candles
on a scarred morning
writing blue Monday
on a diary page
a woman traces
your history
and geography lesson
but you are gone
in a surreal butt out
losing her loving
in a lip gloss talk-
a thon on your blanket
and in her mirror
lying together
about the truth
of one night hook ups
linking your supine
soul and body language
on the last lap dance
away from home.