Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Wonder

In honor of an old friend...


He comes always in the night
like a thief
and steals her heart. 

She hears the sound of his truck
rattling down her street in the dark. 
The springs and stuffing
are growing out of the seat,
but he's loyal to it, the way a man
can be loyal to an old dog 
that should be put mercifully to sleep.
Even she's grown fond of it, somehow. 


She waits for the sound of the doorbell
a quick press of the buzzer, a hint that he's here.
She rises from the bed, damning him in her mind
knowing she won't protest his arrival
even though he's almost 45 minutes late.


At the door, she turns away, moves ahead of him
to shut the door behind him.  
She stumbles on her way in and he thinks she's just awakened,
that he's woken her.
She doesn't bother to tell him anything different.
She moves by him to go to the bathroom,
brush her teeth, get settled in herself.
He reaches for her, feels the material of her gown
and pulls her to him.
They hug.
She wonders what he's thinking.


He's brought tea and donuts again,
his version of wining and dining.
She looks in the bag, a cry of delight 
at the chocolate honey-dip he's brought.
She bites into it and wonders
who else has he brought tea and donuts to?
Who else does he share his Monday night ritual with?
She pushes the thought aside as they chew and sip and smile.


Later, when the tea and sugar is gone
they lie quietly, comfortably in her bed
and he lays there and talks, about everything
and nothing, it doesn't matter what.
She could listen to his voice forever.
And then he sings to her, the song he wrote
that's so sad and beautiful and sounds like a tune
from Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.


After they make love, as they stand in the darkness
he takes her own hands into his own and puts them together
a breath of air moving between them.
Look, he says. Feel.
She shrugs, doesn't see his point.
He puts his own hand against one of hers, a breath of air
between them and says again, feel
feel the difference.  
And she does feel it - the electricity between them,
the polarities of their yin and yang, energy melding 
and colliding by turns
in that small space in that moment in time.
And his wonder, his urge to show her the power between them
is touching.


They wake in the morning, turn silently to each other
and join without the interruption of words.
They sleep.
When he leaves, she wonders when she'll see him again
hear his voice in the dark, feel his hands on her body
and his breath against her skin.
She wonders
and tries not to care.


October 1991-ish

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