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Thread: Pooner Diaries: Travelling

  1. #1

    Pooner Diaries: Travelling

    I miss her already.

    I was with her only hours ago. And we were barely strangers only scant hours before that.

    A moment in time is already burned into my memory. It was after the festivities, and we lay back satiated. She rolled onto her stomach as we talked. The fine hairs on the back of her neck and the small of her back, spun copper-gold, gleaming in the afternoon sunlight on her creamy white skin. Her incredible brown-green eyes peering at me from behind fine auburn lashes. Her brilliant white smile flashing at me from behind thin lips. The curve of her back, the sweep of her shoulder and arm.

    I remember her easy laugh. Her voice. Little-girl-sweet at times. Almost matronly at others. Coarse and crude at still others, as she spurred me on to go harder, harder..

    She knew of my interest in literature, and misquoted Ezra Pound. She didn't need to try and impress me. She already had. I kissed her then, and we had all the communication we needed. Our tongues spoke that language fluently.

    I remember her smell. It was the barest hint of a gentle musk behind Vera Wang. I remember how it stayed behind in my bed after she left, reminding me that the grace of her company had not been just a dream, but had been the sweetest of realities. Her scent remained behind, cheshire-cat-like, and then it faded as well.

    She left me, and I was sorry to see her go. Could the sound of a door closing be so laden with sadness? But the door closed, and I know that on the other side, she walked away. She was thinking about her next client, or having a smoke and something to eat, or getting home to her children. I like to think that after she's soaking in a hot tub at the end of the night, or the dishes are cleared away and the last cigarette butted out, or the children have finally gone to bed, she might think of me briefly and smile.

    I sit here in this airport, waiting for my flight. My trusty laptop is before me as I type these words. It's funny, these times we share. Some of the times are lewd, rude, and raucous. Some of the times are tender and gentle. We look into each other's eyes and I could almost believe that there is more. But I leave her and I leave this place, knowing that I will be back.

    I do know, though, that I will see her again. Her name will be different, though. It will be Jaime. Or Amie. Or Saraphina. Or Bijou. Annalise. Claire. Fera. Sydney. Or if I'm very, very lucky and I've lived my life right, it just might be Anne. She might be a tiny asian spinner barely fitting in the crook of my arm, a husky blonde amazon towering over me in heels, or any shape, size, or color in between.

    And the cycle will start anew.

  2. #2

    Passage of time

    Hey, that's pretty good Bird boy....reminds me of the saying I heard once...(you might like it, I modified it a bit to suit the moment you captuered....)

    " Two spirtual beings having a human experience"

  3. #3
    Gentleman Horndog
    Join Date
    Jul 2003
    Location
    Winnipeg
    Posts
    5,010
    Well done once again, Birdboy; entertaining as usual.

    Quote Originally Posted by Birdboy
    Her scent remained behind, cheshire-cat-like
    So, does that mean the scent came from a Cheshire pussy, then? Sorry, I couldn't resist that one.

  4. #4
    Quote Originally Posted by nube
    Hey, that's pretty good Bird boy....reminds me of the saying I heard once...(you might like it, I modified it a bit to suit the moment you captuered....)

    " Two spirtual beings having a human experience"
    Thanks, nube. Hope I can help you on your decision to dip your toe (and other parts) into the waters.

    Spiritual beings.. I like that.

  5. #5
    Quote Originally Posted by Avery
    So, does that mean the scent came from a Cheshire pussy, then? Sorry, I couldn't resist that one.
    Trust me, I'd much rather have had the scent left behind than the teeth.

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