Foolproof Potion for Love
Mint Leaves upon the tongue
Orange Zest for the bottom of the glass
Peel away the inhibitions
Work that spell
Stirring-stick into Concoction
Townhouse adjacent to the beach
terrace between house and sand
French doors frame each and every
sunset
to the West
The sound of waves
sultry in their slumber
He finally stirred
from the silk sheets
as I remain
still nude
as he
and now
with movements
soft cunning
and studied
no attention paid
to the spent yellow flower
upon the floor, crinkled
crumpled
yesterday’s Speedo
brutal is one’s leaving
As I
Tied to the bed
in ropes of velvet red
with no need of the spell
of any such
Potion
and so,
I am sure, drunk did he
from the glass
upon entering
the kitchen
streetlights dimly
entering as
soft White kittens
would,
Unless, left directly,
did he
must he have
by way of
the terrace, so calmly
Through the quaint,
White picket fence
However, someone that thorough
as his carefully planned actions
demonstrated to me…had convinced me
that
To the kitchen
that would have been it
to begin his work
in the half-light of candles,
no soft kitchen light
upon an island of granite, centered,
the glass
I heard
bang down
we never did figure out
what happened
to the lights,
fleeing like frightened birds
darkness ensued…
minimalist salad
meandering dressing
vinaigrette over Arugula
Whet my appetite
A lubricious wine
upon my lips
Nick smiles wryly
at seeing pleasure
my own
This Victorian haven
a home fronting the beach
Zen frontier crashing rhythmically
outside an open window
shall I recant the method
of our meeting
How to exchange one
Starry Night for a day of
Stinging Sunshine
What’s your name?
Finally he asks
Sunny
Good name, for you.
after dinner
upon our entering
the bedroom
upstairs we went together
The beach where
we had met
as he had
watched the men
more than the
Sand-pipers,
the running birds
playing catch-up
with the waves
no stones to
overturn upon this beach
never mind the Cranes
White like the Moon
tall upon its splendor
So many birds…
You could never
call him,
just another trick,
Nick
And now no Moon above,
Like a cat’s paws upon a cloud
of silence
all but the waves
The rushing of the Ocean,
followed by
rumbling,
mock regret
Hissing of the nearby Palms,
nearly plaintive
as they
vainly compete with the stars but
in the sky
high above remorse
invisible footprints
to all but the Angels
all trace is erased
as I remain to Fall
But earlier Blase
bright canopy of dawn
the Beige sand
startling sunlight
upon the waves
and merely memory of clouds
lingered in my mind
Azure
without limits
a sandcastle
always underfoot
blithely collapses
how a journey begins
at its ending
This would be the first time
I’d met Nick
CEO of Longshot
Industrial Swagger
Yellow Speedo
and we pretended not to
notice
on our long sojourn
on this strip of sand
called Anna Maria, Florida
However, going to the beach
is really all about
what you leave
behind.
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All Rights Reserved
Written by James Legare 5-9-17
