The Ache
Lying on the bench of the deck table,
My feet propped up on a rail of the boat,
I see nothing but a vast sheet of blue,
Feel nothing but the breeze and a dull ache
In my head. The silhouette of a woman
Is suddenly next to me, carved from the sunlit sky.
Regarding me casually, no obvious emotion,
She steps astride my legs.
Young, subtly attractive,
Her face made mostly of shadows.
I may have seen her around before.
“Do you think I’m someone else?”
“No,” she sighs, leaning forward.
She lays her head on my chest. Her dark hair
Graces my cheek, drapes my shoulder.
Raising her feet from the deck,
She rests the whole of her slight weight
On my body, gripping my arms gently.
I stroke her fragrant hair, graze her back
With my knuckles and fingertips.
She sighs contentedly.
A little saddened, I watch a hawk
Cross my vision, high in the satin sky,
And quietly lament that things like that
Never really happen.
Sitting up, I take the notebook from my backpack
And write under the setting sun.
