Dedicated to the ones who have touched another if only for a moment or two.
There is a small cafe, towards the old school on Morrison Street. I’ll be there tonight, if you’d like to stop on by. I like to get there by 630, at around that time the bakery across the way begins to bake it’s stuff for the weekend. The aroma is spectacular and creates an insatiable lust for anything – once in a while I’ll order a jelly roll.
I usually sit outdoors, weather permitting and the weather looks lovely today. I’ll be there with my knitted derby, dark sunglasses and doing a crossword puzzle. Cappuccino in front of me and a view of the winding road as it winds down and around.
I like to come here on Thursdays, the mood is usually a bit jollier than other days.
There is also a band that plays acoustically across the road, I sometimes join in with my harmonica; once or twice I played some guitar, but not tonight.
I remember us together for that moment in time. Do you remember those nights, in the early 1980’s in New York City? When we took the elevator in the Plaza Hotel, to the 9th floor and walked into that room without a key? Closing the door behind us and having some fun…with the “do not disturb” sign on the door we kept at it for some time…I can still see your smile and hear your laugh. I can still remember your eyes closed and a feeling of ecstacy pulsating from you.
When you said goodbye I didn’t know how I would react, internally, to your leaving. But it haunted me for some time – especially when I saw you dancing with that clueless kid with the Armani tuxedo, your arms encircled around his waist. I had to turn away, I had to leave, I should have left but instead I stayed and absorbed the hits. Only when I was bruised enough inside did I decide I had enough, limping away for good measure.
The years have been good to me – although it was kind of a rough go for some time – life was still filled with beauty and wonder. I loved and love more than I could ever have imagined – in a world filled with impossible expense and debt – it’s funny how the best things in life, the ones that you will remember, the stuff that time is filled with – they don’t cost a dime.
Still I think about you.
When I walk through parks, parkways or swim in rivers or oceans – I check my surroundings to see if you are somehow there too. I don’t obsess – I just wonder how it would be to sit and chat?
So, I place this post for you to read to tell you, come meet me. Platonic, sexual, who knows? I am in love – perhaps too much in love with my mate – are you in love with that illusionist still? He could really make you feel as if he was something he was not.
So, there is this small cafe – just beyond that winding road which connects Morrison Street with New Amsterdam. I’ll be sitting there, in the corner, taking deep breaths and sips of my cup of cappuccino. Perhaps I will also have a jelly roll in front of me just for the contrast in colors.
If you don’t stop by it’s ok – but if you do, it would be nice to sit and see just how the years have been for you. I don’t miss you – but I do feel a hunger inside for you, a physical lust that I hold onto as if it’s a part of me I never want to let go or perhaps choose not to. It could be that I am the typical older fool who reaches out to his past in order to feel young again. Reaching out to you to simply take a trip back in time when I was stronger and life seemed so simple. You know the adage? “You can’t go back again,” but you can’t blame an older man for trying.