The Procession

            He walks her to the bathroom.  “This is the ladies’ room.  If there’s no toilet paper in there, come back out, okay?  I’ll make sure you get some.”  He opens the door and she shuffles inside.  He closes the door behind her.

“It can be tough when you get older!” he remarks to a young man taking notice of the conversation.

“Oh yeah,” the young man laughs, looking down at the plate.  

He waits by the door. When she emerges, he asks, “Did you wash your hands?”

She asks questions too.

“What town are we in?”

“Westport.”

“What?” She cranes her neck.

“Oh, your hearing aids are in backwards.”  With soft fingertips, he combs back her white blonde hair, takes out her hearing aids, and inserts them into the opposite ears.

“Ouch,” she says.

“Sorry.  Is that better?”  He brushes her hair back over her ears, arranging the long strands on her shoulders.  “We’re in Westport.”

“What are we doing here?”

“John and Mary are coming to meet us here.” 

“Here?  In this restaurant?”

“Yep!”  He squeezes her hand.  “You had to go to the bathroom, said you felt pressure.   So I figured it was better if they met us in Starbucks.”

“They are meeting us here?”

“Uh huh.” 

“What town are we in?”

“Westport.”

“Oh.”

He hands her a drink.  “Careful now, it’s hot!” 

She nods, staring at her cup. He leads her down an exciting array of do’s and did’s, future and past.  Mary and John… kids… looking forward to the visit… pumpkin season.  Remember twenty years ago? Those pumpkins?  This afternoon, quite the harvest… Her eyes track his lips and animated gestures.

His phone beeps.  “Change of plans. We’re meeting them at a place not far away.  Time to go, love.”  He stands and holds out his hand, which she examines and then grips.  He lifts her up and guides her forward, never rushing, ever matching her step-hold-step.

My Life is "Hard"

Remember the day

Heaven came splashing down

On rooftops, on cars?

With upturned faces, soft and dry

We looked upon it

Vulnerable to glass panes

Streaked with rage.

I opened the window

And stuck my hand outside

My, was that a doosie!

:/

I Loved Him

I loved him, was in love with him.

It’s a weird thing to say now--now that I’m, well, not. But I did. I loved him.

I loved him matter-of-factly, in a way that recognized his immediate positive attributes. “He has such a strong allegiance to family, to friends, to the idea of friendship. He is goofy yet serious, adventurous yet stable.”

I loved him abstractly, in a way that exalted his potential qualities. “He will make a good father. His dedication to work will surely result in success. If ever I became famous, how grand he would look on my arm!”

I loved him hopelessly, in a way that examined his face, his body, his lifestyle, and thought, “Me? He picks me?” A love that verged on desperation, which felt itself doomed to loss and desperately feared to lose.

I loved him egotistically, reveling in the positive qualities his shining eyes reflected back at me. Spritely, intelligent, witty, creative. “She’s a charmer, she is, the most beautiful girl in the room. Easy to be around. One stepping-stone away from screaming success.” That vision of me—I loved him for creating that. And yet…

I loved him for many reasons, but I never loved him quietly, simply, unripplingly, nor he toward me.

And that love—the soft love—never came.

A Strange Estrangement

She lies there, topless

Arm draped across her breast

Looking longingly, looked at longingly

Smooth, tight skin

From an arched back

Displaying circle stretched oval

Begging to be touched

Prickling with anticipation

Anticipating prickling

Overwhelming feelings

Divorced from species’ origin

That in sating the long

She grows thick and fat

Shunting another

To claim her smooth place

I care so much (Just not enough to want you)

I care so much.

Hear my voice quiver. Hear my words tremble and fall like leaves in a storm, haphazardly and without control. Could this happen if I didn’t care?

Hear my joyous exclamations at your uniquely sonorous tongue drenching me in your melody once more, to know that you’re alright. I knew you’d be alright, but what relief to know for sure! Hear me sigh in relief.

There’s so much to tell you—stumbling blocks and successes, family developments. The family asks about you often, you know. They’ll be thrilled to know you’re alright.

In an hour I’ll be crying—no, really—engorged tears welling up from the bottomless spring of affection recessed in sacrosanct folds of my heart—the metaphorical one. You meant so much to me; forever will you mean so much to me.

I care so much.

Forced Brutality

For anyone who has felt compelled to be more brutally honest than they ever cared to be...

You made me do it

Begged me cut your heart

A serrated start

Swallowed hilt to tip

Finished with a twist

Nay one foot apart

Rigor swears my mark

Bit by bit you quit

Were there other means!

I tried piercing eyes

Nuanced language teemed

Heavy still you leaned

Denial’s unwise

Turning friends to fiends

Be My Little Secret

Be my little secret

I'll slip into the black

Destinedly clandestine

Meet you at the crossroads

Where one night’s shadow palms

A dawn with other suns

Let me take you here

Where they can’t see for sleeping

Laughing over crystal

Clinking, sly eyes gleaming

Stolen moments in this

World of our own making

Last kiss, I race morning

Perhaps once, we’ll hold fast

Emerging as our dawn’s stars

Bow before the sun

But until we are won

Be my little secret,

Treasure, my private pleasure

Be my little joy