girl with hands like

a fresco lady, you

with the awkward graceful bending

fingers of a potatoes peeler,

you come

to the door

of your cat-curled minutes

and wince your

fast-starting smile and laugh.

Robin, who I remember

dreaming of me being hanged for

witchcraft in a rexall drug store

or the arma-

dillos

under the icebox,

to meet you

on the street

would be impossible

until I saw

your necklace of

tiny beads

or that the street

was lined with

pipe cleaner trees.