a poem a day for a year #238

In my bathroom I have a copy of Henry Miller's The Colossus of Maroussi.
I have been reading the first sentence several hundred times.
I would never have gone to Greece had it not been for a girl named Betty Ryan who lived in the same house with me in Paris.
we are moving time and space for each other
opening doors
peeling back clothing
deciding to take the later bus
drinking tea instead of coffee
if I show you this part of my heart
things may get awkward
we all fall down

Who's your Betty Ryan?