I don’t get you

“It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost getting dark”. She sighed.If only she had remembered where her keys were. The empty street was silent. One small neon sign winked and flickered. Two small words, No Vacancy.

Her mind was clouded by what he had said after dinner. Come by later or not. Was he kidding me? Guess what I’m choosing? The crisp air was only an invite as to how she felt. The neon sign, why not? The snow had been gathering like Woodstock musicians. She had insisted upon herself to wear the dress . That dress, retro black and white with her blacked heeled Mary Jane’s. Fashion had overruled her common sense. Him an old friend from high school. Far too many years had passed between them . Not really a first date, more like reacquainted. He had acted like a spoiled child early on in the evening. It had been her choice of restaurant

and music. He had accepted her invitation excitedly. No TV’s he’d had asked. Douche bag. She stared down the street deciding her best move. If only a song would pop into my head. No Vacancy. The snow felt bright, fractured, whirling like cotton candy. She did not feel chilled. Move already! They Way You Make Me Feel! Heart beats , neon sign, door reads Janitors Closet. Don’t remember walking here. Black steel she shoves hard! Scraping like fingernails on a blackboard, the smell of rust. Elongated hallway. Time warp. She found her way through the haze of cologne and perfume. A small stage sat recklessly in the corner. Looking around she spots a single chair, at the end of the ebony bar. Voice, laughter salt her red lips.

A tall young barkeep approaches her. Most debonair, perfectly styled mustache. She smiles , bourbon rocks. Toast, cedar, black pepper. Robert Burn cigar faint, frostily into her senses. His dark curls fall across the corner of his left eye. She doesn’t smile, instead she turns her back. She swirls her dark honey poison. Long slow sip, gentle warm spice on her tongue.

Sweet pears, apples kiss the roof of her mouth. She can feel his hard stare, she looks over her shoulder, again she does not smile. There is an array of musicians tuning and checking. Anticipation, ticking,

waiting for that first note. Her mind snapping back into reality. She is like a warrior on a first kill. She trembles , is this a dream? She reaches into her pocket. Keys. She is bolted awake. She shields her eyes from the twisted creamsicle lights. How long had she stood outside this quaint bistro?. Frustrated by him. Dam this city at 3am. The destruction, the cause of the storm. A hurricane, a trilogy unfolding like a bolt of

lightning into the water. She walks into her hidden solace. Keys turn, shoes drop. She walks to the window, I see you. She sits half of herself. A night of delusions. Tragic she can sense a true instinct. She is a lonely lover, her companions drifting, guarded.Shameless with her chambord liqueur. She is tangerine fires cursing down on you.Your sweet little lies. This is not mental anguish. Perhaps just colored crayon fragments. Her behavior is not

irrational or unshackled. Why did you ask?

She is the mastermind on this black licorice night. You are to her a vessel of illusion a manipulator of passion. She is getting off this merry-go-round. Your path lover is not dictated by the moon

rather by inky, grimy overcast skies. Rude, selfless traitor! She is however smoke and spice a social bandit. A tonic paradise!

She sits looking at her feet. Shoes strewn across the floor. All worn differently, many occasions no substitutions. Check 1,2,3. Shall she travel to the other side? Everyday life she can reason her own thoughts. No expectations. Ask him to lay down his cards. She cannot keep up. This is astonishing. I can be absent, to value your presence. He is obviously spooked by his own reality. I am a mix of sorcery, and

curiosity. She is high consumed in her own

dignity. She is restless, angered at this sinful game. She smirks, as if she has just slapped an unscrupulous lover. She will never bet on another man’s game. Oh how fine the moonshine pours! She wishes him to be out of her head. I’m no Angel, be careful what you ask the universe. This should have been a connection. She is slow death slipping through his fingers and yet he is clueless. This night has strung into miles of deflecting speed. This was no love affair, you were never my prisoner. Her eyes are wounded , but not enough to make her cry. A lover’s sorrow, crystal kisses stripped away. Never playing for keeps . Blame is forever , burning like an imprinted tattoo. She is dancing in her coral negligee. Promenading on her winged Pegasus. She is not like the others. One face redirects the pink lemonade clouds . Spinning on the equator axis locked on earths gravity. Never withered by age she is timeless. A hidden speakeasy our prohibition. Secrets forever etched in in her landscape. She dumbfounded, but not blind. Blue flash bulbs exposed by a polaroid camera. Stripped senses drowning in marmalade tears. Choose wisely, it’s the nature of the game. . Is she truly functioning? What a whimsical show! You can leave this conversation in the dungeon. She has seen this show her own personal war. Written like a hard bound book. Another story begins, created by those we have never met. Romance embedded in our souls. Open her pages full of adventure. As you read you will learn she is wise. Sometimes her words become faded. Slow down and feel the notes in your body. Let go of your mind. Faults destiny’s failures, borrowed time. Is she still standing? Replaying the scene words over in her head. This is like a broken movie reel. Unaware the morning blush appears to wane her away. Note to self you are more elegant on your own