The Lover Of Wisdom
He helped in the kitchen
while she was away.
One night he was worried about the wine
her father noticed, told him
not to worry
they said it was the best place they’d been to
that they were glad to be here.
besides it was the second bottle they’d ordered.
It was then he grabbed her father’s hand, said
Are you my friend? Are you!
The towering man with black mustache
in a well-worn greasy apron said
Always. I am your friend always!
It was evening when she came back.
He was sorting pots from the green house
packing them into the jeep
parked at the top of the driveway
when they pulled in
BMW convertible dark blue with tan leather
He did not want to meet her friends.
Afraid they’d hear the beating of his heart
he stayed on the other side of the jeep
pretending to be too busy
waiting for her to come to him.
But after their long good-byes,
she didn’t.
He walked around saw her walking
down the hill with her bags
he thought – she has not returned to me at all then.
Shortly later she came back.
Sat with him on the grass
her black hair veiling them
as hunched together head to head
he opened what she gave him
wrapped in white tissues
a ball of crystal inside a ball of alabaster.
I missed you so much he said.
Are you brave enough to let me shave you? Come on,”
she said “Let me! I want to!”
He had not shaved since she left
and her creamy skin could not abide a whiskered face.
Comments
Reblogged this on Pdlyons's Weblog and commented:
currently doing a final edit of “women retrospective” and this is one of them.
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