GOOD WOMEN

were all
too good
for me.
Especially
if they were smart,
beautiful,
& giving.
Eventually,
that combo
spelled doom--
for me
not them.

Madwomen
captivated me:
alcoholics,
pill heads,
head strong
whores
of the senses.
Some
were bipolar,
tripolar,
strung out
& senseless
to the needs
of others--
like me.
They were tipsy
& tortured,
believing they
had it worst
of all
while I knew
no one
could have it worse
than me
dealing
with them.

We were locked
in a dance
of death.
Usually doing a tango
inside the coffin
of our own despair.
It was not without
laughs and its own
magic
& beauty
which held me fast
to my original
breast of
emptiness.

Now,
I most want
a good woman,
a kind woman,
a woman who knows
her strengths
& my weakness:
the self
myself.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015