My downstairs neighbors were out for the night
          seeing The Clash in Cleveland

Which meant it was ok for Jolene to practice her
          flamenco routine on my linoleum

Kitchen floor in just Cuban heels & T-shirt having
          uncurled from the bed just a moment

Before & I still couldn’t move even one muscle
          as the riveting gunshot rhythms

Began to ricochet through my little apartment
          but I rose up on one elbow

To answer the clanging of the phone on the floor
          right by the mattress & it was my

Once friend Elijah still way PTSD after five years
          in country & out & before I could try

Closing the bedroom door he asked Are those shots?
          as he heard the flamenco’s crescendo

& I said Yeah but nothing serious just some assholes
          popping off at the frog pond

Then he started up telling me he didn’t know where
          his wife was but when he did find out

He’d kill the motherfucker she was sleeping with
          & it went on like this a while before

I said Good luck & I had to go & just then Jolene stopped
          dead in her steps & peeled off her T-shirt

The sweat pouring off her as I walked over to wrap both
          arms around her & hold on a moment

Before I told her I guess you better go home now
          that was Elijah calling & she asked me

What did he want? & I said Just you