smoke and mirrors
The corner of the bar is cramped and the high backed stools with wide seats allow me to curl up like a cat on them and watching you talk with your hands makes me purr. Keening and stretching to find the light that will make you see me. The more we talk the more I feel that there is this ribbon tieing us together getting tighter and tighter pulling me toward you. Easy laughter and rapid flow of conversation feels like a pot bubbling over and there is no lid. Like a river current, like the one you worked on while on the tugboat, pulls me to your house, into your life as though I had always been there. We can sit in silence, me reading, you reading and its comfortable and warm. We are always surrounded by this warm light that flatters even the most wrinkled moments. Smoke and cards and drinking and Tom Waits on the stereo. You serenade me and hope that you don’t fall in love with me while I pray to someone elses god that you do. That you are and will be forever. Desperate comfort in sleeping next to you and feeling like my place will always be next to your pillow. I am on the left side of the bed because you are on the right. Days and nights blend into one single moment winding out into time compressed into a breath. Your breath on my neck and your laughter in my head. I believe you when you tell me I am your beautiful angel and I love you so completely that it doesn’t sound corny but like wine from gods lips. In a single moment, feels like the very next breath that is all and you are done and on to someone else. I obsess for quite sometime, stalking you really, driving by your house because you are addicting. You were addicting. Magic, that illusion you made for me, the first one of love, was not easily forgotten. Complete love isn’t left behind but it is easy to forget and forgive the fragments. Where ever you are now, lost in some other world I will not know for years to come, is reflected by the light of the sun on the water, the Hudson River gray in winter but brilliant in the light.