Tap Dancing Crows

She was Bright,
flamboyant like a gay man,
a fop, a dandy.

She strolled
the cobblestone alley of Savannah,
her hands tracing the sky,
her spirit High on vicarious,
empathetically channeled Heroin.

She said, “I’m main-lining life.”
As she strutted,
her music better than sex,

the humid Southern air kissing her skin.
Back and forth, up and down
the alley.

There she gave her love away

like she always did,
to the cooks sitting on the Bricks
with a smile

To the crows tap dancing on
the Riverwalk,

to the tree she touched as she went by

to

all the Slugs she tried
to save.