the lovers list

before she
falls asleep
at night, tossing
and turning,
she counts,
as if counting
sheep, all
the men that
she has ever slept
with, some names
she can hardly
remember, their
faces blurred
with time, and
fading memory, so
she calls them
by something
else, a bar,
a place that
they met in, a
season in some
city she may
have visited.
that random crazy
time in a bathroom
at a party, or
in a parked car
on a dark road.
the chance they
took in an
elevator,
she names them
by the cars they
drove. the blue
chevy, the red van.
the boy with
a truck, rusted
orange, in a grey
cloud of fumes.
the married man
with kids,
the man with blonde
hair, and a snake
tattoo. and sometimes
she falls alseep
before she gets
to the end of
her lovers list,
and other times
she dwells on
the one or two
that she truly loved
and wanted more
of, the ones that
got away, that
broke her heart,
then she fogets,
and drifts away in
thought about what
could have been,
and she loses
the count,
the number,
and has to start
all over again.