The damp night air carries
Church bells ringing in the distance
My past and present intermingle
I struggle with my luggage tagged “history”
Waiting for the next plane or train to leave
Believing I should board it
In blind faith –without a map
Yet I know,
It will leave without me
I will stay behind
Hoping
Hoping, for a just one interlude
With you…
Perhaps a stingy glass of wine
And cheese with the mold cut off
In the back of a dimly lit room
As the piano player plays the same tune
Over and over
You intrigue me
I hear your voice in the distance
And your footsteps
Along with the whistle
the last call for the train
My eyes search for you in the crowd
Yours do not seek me
I exhale long and deep
My body has betrayed me
I no longer have a clue how to seduce you
And hold you in my folds
For hours…. or days
Yes, days.
I forget I have aged
My sagging breasts
Round hips
Soft muscles
I despise them
I tell myself half-truths
And downright lies
Just two glasses of wine
And all will be perky and firm…
At least for an hour
I watch you out my window
The old man on the train
Tells me I should have stayed
Turned around
let fate play out….
Easy for him to say
He does not own hands
That long to hold a lover
Wrapped in my folds
For hours… or days
On this cold rainy night
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