(Ingrid in Between)

The flak off a usual Jack
anybody like me... I know
was nothing to Ingrid
blasting bright smiles
that glowed even in rain
or out the taxi cab window

that smile was the Every
that was (Ingrid in Between)
with its dimples
in the event I was looking
at the event that day whenever
when there was a way that we spoke—
gabbed—about, you know... stuff
When I did not know her, or her me
we shared stories in passing
and stair wells
lingering
It seemed it was always late;
How easy were our late night sessions,
encompassing,

in between...
where no lies in between

the buildings in between Ingrid
elevator after elevator
while she walked smoothly
black boots astride
among giants
board rooms
fear, but
they break those
cowards in skylights
fools in penthouses
overbearing morons
who could not brush her cheek.

They didn't know how to
—with the hunt in their eyes—
hold her softly
and it was only later
on a poorly varnished maple coffee table
that card games revealed crushes;
no worries, secrets succumbed
and the one-eye Jack, like me, looked up
because of games (and)
once certain names spoken
we would not whisper;

did I smile? did I breathe?
and did I think?
this counts so much
when I brushed her cheek?

We parted and others,
they laughed across the table
after shaking greasy hands,
conquering maybe table tops
she among them, too much, I think,

Ingrid is among
and not now in between
but wants more and better
the heroine who can
with that smile that is Every
Oh, that's a Power,
And new to the table
sure to take over

she beams
even when I've not seen
who Ingrid is
and asked where did she go?—when
I was too far gone. But
Questions go unanswered...
it's their nature...
they capture something besides an answer
something in between the lines

It is a long time since our
late night confabs blasted insecurities
sitting on the floors
apartments, backs against walls,
stereo on the floor, CDs between us
and, time gone by, will I share
the stories of our stories?
will I remember
the dances with (Ingrid In Between)

past a bridge then AND
unseen, a way-a-way place then AND
There is AND in the measure of 
Ingrid
AND it will never measure, that AND
no one will have her unless it is the AND
they understand
I know that measure,
though I may not be the man.

In Between
what she wants
and what she hopes
what she needs
and what she knows
is a flag that's soaring

And she is in between,
if you find her,
and your music, your melody
your blindness, your sight
your supposed forever, and your now,
will not find
(Ingrid in between)
until she, won
will lay that flag down.

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