Ulysses on audiobook

It's difficult to fall in love with girls wondering through
libraries
running their fingers down all
your favorite books
the eye contact will seize you
and you're captured
now you're Crusoe;
she always has darker hair
the same style
you wonder if she's the same girl
but after many cities, counties, continents--
you'll take your coffee black
for the rest of your life

and in winter she bundles her hair
like flowers
            behind a scarf

she'll walk—but never turns her hand
when crossing streets;
you know for certain she'd love
taking whiskey in a run down motel
maybe South Dakota—maybe West Virginia
but you'll never ask.
You'll take your coffee black
for the rest of your life--
won't you?

Maybe you'll one day approach her
and ask as if it's the most important question in the world
how she spells grey.
She'll smile certainly,
her shoulders give away instantly
her affection for that which is silly,
maybe you'll both laugh
driving down country roads
listening to Ulysses
realizing Joyce on audio
is a laughable offense
maybe you're too curious
to understand how her hands clutch a million different
coffee cups and whether
she sips when too hot--
it is winter anyways--
what if she'd dance
during rainy spring
arms flailing--
what if she understands joy?
What if she speaks the language of flowers
understands the character of Jack Ruby
could swat Prufrock like a fly
rumble in the jungle
dance like Ali

but will you say to yourself—skeptically--while measuring coffee
early morning/years past
“This was all based on the movement of her shoulders!”
Black coffee looks nothing like a heart
you'll notice
and shoulders speak the world
if you'll listen.