Gipsy

The visits  
were unexpected  
her delight,  
an invisible rain of surprise
 
She would dance at my door
caught naked in the wind's teeth
still clutching thunder to her heart
a handmaiden to madness
riding energies prouder than blood
with the surefooted yearning  
of the craziest type of fool
 
For weeks she had slept in the car
lived on yoghurt  
bacon & orange juice
stolen early
from posh Hampstead doorsteps  
which was probably why  
she liked my cooking
as much as she did
 
She said money was a greater sin
an alien commodity  
birthing demons of greed
turning all the world's love  
into the sourness of a lie
She would rather steal what she needed
& keep her hands relatively clean
 
So there was no  
money  
to spend on her battered Renault  
now prophetically too old  
to be persuaded to perform at speed
But on a clear August road  
she paid anyway
meeting all her demons at once
with brakes on vacation  
first a windscreen
and then a wall
before death at the bottom of a hill
 
I had wanted to see  
past the drug of her smile
through to real honesty  
paraded one day
beyond the glitz of youth
although a girl like her could never grow old
or be anyone else
when her bravest music
seemed always cursed
with a gipsy's wilding soul