Shooting the Rapids, Looking for Deliverance

That first heroine trip, the rushing ride,

never comes again, they say,

but fades with tolerance and neediness;

high-horse cut with a drain, o!

and the hot spoon, love cooking

in the crucible of experience

becomes again the blushing bride,

the onward trip on the venal highway

to euphoria. Her seedy dress

you bought at Goodwill, where the vain go

to try on retro poverty-looking,

has the look now of dalliance.

.

forgetfulness down the many river lethes

that open to the oceanic styx, where it breathes