Jilly
written by: Mitchel Montagna
In a Jeep with Jilly,
a love tale on the make.
She said, you wanna
cop some weed
I know the road to take.
You see that flight of stairs, she said,
that leans like it might fall.
That’s the one you
gotta use,
be better if you crawl.
And watch out for the rats, she said,
the pit bulls make ‘em tough.
You know, I said,
with further thought
I think we got enough.
We found a pasture by a stream
that breathed a woody scent.
I watched the dancing
water shine while
Jilly raised our tent.
The stars came on like birthday lights
as darkness swooped and spread.
We sparked a flame
with maple logs,
and played the Grateful Dead.
Inside our tent the lanterns blazed.
Light textured Jilly’s face.
I saw a dreamy
sadness there
melt off without a trace.
She smirked and lighted up a blunt
then cracked open a beer.
My heart plucked tunes
of loneliness
I wished that she could hear.
Instead we heard the gentle stream
that softly hissed like rain.
A wind soughed off
the mountainside.
We heard a distant train.
Drugged out, we lay down for the night.
Her skin glowed sweet and sly.
I asked if I might
venture close
and touch her lovely thigh.
With morning came a ranger man
resolved to spit and scoff.
He glared, then said,
no camping here.
Jilly told him to shove off.
Booted out of paradise,
our gas was running low.
She murmured soft, as
if alone,
I got no place to go.
Hell, I said, what’s going on,
you’ll see me very soon.
She dropped me in
the parking lot,
while laughing like a loon.
Dusk engulfed the motor cars
as I was waiting there.
I stayed through pangs
of hunger.
I cursed the chilly air.
Her mystery still finds me,
a light in every dawn.
When I turn fast, and
no one’s there,
I smile and then move on.
- Jilly - April 1, 2026
- Girl on The Balcony - January 28, 2021
