Zelda has not left the building

And two more...

Reflections on a Treefrog 

I am moving beyond

The empty road

Looking to the empty sky

On either side are palms

The sidewalk stretches white and cold

Black lines segmenting my world

Into possible yards.

He is no longer part of the calculation

He is not part of the rhythm of my walk

Or my song

Only a one-note waltz

Interrupting the song of sorrow

Or Mozart

As I pass a familiar landmark

But soon after

After a tear or two

I am caught up in issues I can’t control

Or problems I can solve

I emerge into the world

I now inhabit

Without him

And the dream of something warmer cools.

****************************************************************

The Empty Wind

Listen, hear that?

What, Zelda?

The wind. It's sighing.

I cock an ear.

Sounds more like whistling.

No. It's the sad wind, the forlorn wind

The wind of dying dreams.

It sighs for never loves.

What rubbish. What are 'never loves' anyway?

You don't know? They're the people who

Long to love and never find it who

Pray for love, wish on stars for love, look into each face that passes

Thinking, "He's the one."

The one who wakes up each morning believing that today will be the day when

He'll meet her

Their eyes will lock and he will whisper, "She's the one."

They never give up.

Well, that's just stupid. At some point isn't it better to move on?

Fashion your own life?

Make your own way?

Zelda stubbed her cigar out. "Tell me something.

What's the first thing you think about when you wake?

Breakfast.

Liar.

Okay, the weather.

Tommy brings a fresh drink to Zelda. She tosses it in my lap.

Used to this treatment, I mop it up and order another.

A pregnant silence ensues.  I know

From experience

That Zelda cannot stand pregnant silences. I wait.

"Liar." She spits it out unwillingly.

"Yes. I think of him."

She leans forward, cheeks tense,

Chin wobbly.

"Him? Who?"

"Him who isn't afraid. Him whose eyes light up when challenged.

Who has a story to match every story, but remembers

All mine. The man with a mind that never sleeps

Except with me.

Zelda sips her martini.

The wind whips the curtains into dust devils.

Far out in the bay a water spout rises, rips the clouds apart,

and falls back exhausted into the deep.

Finally she says

Never love.

I know, Zelda. I know.