Reality

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