Vintage
He blinked and she was there
Debonair
He noticed her there
The slight grey in her hair
And laugh lines
Laying the path of her life
A map of her happy/ Even when she wasn’t smiling
She sighed softly
Her brow furrowed with dismay
Of long lines
And teenage clerks who couldn’t count
Beyond the broken register
Which couldn’t register the count
She feels his stare
And he wonders if she can feel his joy
Smell desire in his loins
The throbbing in his groin
The fact that
vintage pussy turns him on…
He is a man of 25
He comes alive at the prospect
Of learned lips
aged hips
As his heart pounds heavily
Thinking on the new wine in those aged skins
The detachment of older women
The assurance of their everything
The indifference
their younger counterparts lack
He loves that
And she radiates with an energy that screams
“take it or leave it…I’m thinking the same of you”
She is beautiful
Laying unknowingly in her regality
She speaks
“are you going to gawk all day?”
He stood against the column of the convenience store
Watching my annoyance dance across my brows
Standing in line for 20 minutes or so now
One clerk; 17 consumers
and I am number 3
I have a good mind to retreat
But my feet seem the rational
Acknowledging there are things one cannot do without
He stood there
Mouth gaping
Wide
As though he’d gone inside himself
Pinning me under his gaze
his mouth is filled
With adverbs
Adjectives
And nouns
And silent wishes, eating from the bounty of his thoughts
And I smell his fear
Faint compared to his desire to be
In places he could have been expressed from
Numb to the years that separate us
He is GLARING
STARING
At my aged thighs
My slow walk, what he may deem my nonchalant way
but today, it is not indifference
I’m just tired…and he has finally gussied up the nerve to ask
“Do you need help?”
One Comment
Nice piece … Enjoyed reading it.