Corner Table, Guiness Stout

Sting: Desert Rose

Corner table
Guinness Stout

Half filled pint
For twenty minutes
It stayed half-filled

Half-filled

Cigarettes slow burn
Slowly birthed
An atmosphere of haze

Lost in the smoke
Patrons movements hidden
But for him
The obvious was clear

He wasn’t there to drink
He wasn’t there to think
Talk
Walk
Count captured coup

He was there for her

For in the stillness
The journey began
His mind’s eye

That was when
That was where
He saw her

Persephone
 

In an ashen twilightCreated by the
Nether-neither-ether-land
Of diminutive streetlights
Barking electric illumination

Body finely fashioned
Bearing grace floated
With the legs of a gazelle
As hair danced at
The gentle touching breeze

That is when she saw him
Rugged frame
Muscular arms
Piercing eyes

Beyond piercing

Her eyes
Beckoning
Simmering a silent
Seducetive plea

Unavoidable
With each degree
Of continued press
Draw inescapable

Souls
That had for too long been

Deprived
Of
Divorced
One
Depraved
From
Devoid
The
Denied
Other

Of
One
From
The
Other

The two
Could no longer hide
Behind an uneasy truce
Binding a condemning truth
Though no crime committed

The cost had been too high

A fact self-evident
With the contact of eyes

The obvious was true

The cost had been too high

A source
Seething underfoot
Drew
Inescapable
Unavoidable
 In gravity primal
A pull absolute

A moment
Eternity frozen by
Blistering heat
Purified by the
Pleasure of a million lives lived
Or the
Pain of a million passing
Mixed
Condensed
Melded
Effortlessly
In an intoxicating incineration
Drawn effortlessly from
The essence of the other

Epics shone
So ferocious
The sun was shamed
Passion so Righteous
The aria of angles
Was muted

Eyes closed to no more than slits
Bearing merely a silent lost tear

This was the only form of communication
To the outside world

An outside world
That no longer mattered

No longer

Mattered
In the mist

“Anything else?”
Questioned a willowy waitress
“No, I’m fine”
Said he

Corner table
Guinness Stout