MONTREAL, MY LOVELY

"Montreal is romantic,"
A woman said to me.
True enough but not in sheets
Of ice or wrapped in snow.

Once I couldn't find my car:
Drifts covered it for weeks.
A long-legged Ukrainian
With strong hands and heat

In her breasts
Helped me dig it out.
I fed her coffee and crepes,
Plied her with wine and cheese.

South brewed in me
As Easter snow fell.
I left before June.
No Northern woman could hold me.

I wanted a Florida woman,
All avocado and lime,
Lithe as the horse she rode,
Both elegant in their skin.

A plume of heat,
She grew to gale force
As her pressure dropped,
Then blew herself out to sea.

I take her heat with me.
It drives my trade
Through latitudes of fields,
Swamps, mountains and shores.

PETER HUGGINS teaches in the English Department at Auburn University.  He is the author of two collections of poems, Hard Facts (Livingston Press/University of West Alabama, 1998) and Blue Angels (River City Publishing, 2001).  His novel for middle readers, In the Company of Owls, is forthcoming from NewSouth Books.

“Montreal, My Lovely” © 2001, Peter Huggins. Used by permission of the author.