She sits across–
with the open legs.
Her gaze is on my face
mine,– at her lingerie.
And there is nothing left to mask
and there is nothing left to say.
the time is thick and cold
the train operator is in full control.
I want to run away,
but the train doesn’t stop.
I want to hide,
but He still can hear my thoughts.
And there is her
confronting her urge to conceal
and there is me
challenged by such ordeal.
there is a point on the horizon
where the wake on the water
from his boat.
is merging with the vapor trail
from her plane.
yet the altitude between them
is keeping them apart.
she put two fingers
on my lips to hush me.
there wasn’t any cigarette between them
nor a flower to stick between my teeth
to make it gimmicky romantic
just two fingers.
it felt like a kiss.
O’ yes, she knew how to kiss
with her fingers
a banal scene.
a car is standing on the traffic light.
the rain is running down the windshield
leaving blurred spots of the diffracted hue of red
like the screen of the space ship
from some vintage sci-fi movie.
she said, – “I want to touch the stars”.
he took her hand in his
and kissed her fingers.
the traffic light turned green.
the car sped up and left.
the rain kept penetrating night.
she came with the light PM rain,
we haven’t spoken since the high school.
she moved to London.
I stayed around.
“how do you feel”, I asked.
(I know she was coping with the health problems).
“I look good, that’s the main thing, right?”, she answered.
“we are getting older, you know, but you are getting younger.
that’s encouraging”, I replied.
I felt like a jellyfish on my new blood pressure medication.
she said, “nowadays easier being bipolar, than with the high blood pressure”.
“how are the kids, wife, Ok?”
I nodded, yes.
I put the paper boat,
that I just made out of the menu,
in runlet on the street.
“I got to go, see you around”, she said.
she got into the yellow cab,
and left into the light PM rain.
the paper boat fell