More
than one person I know (gay, straight, male and female) has confessed to wet
dreams about a stranger they have seen on a train time and again, but to whom
they have never found the nerve say a word…
'With love and patience, nothing is impossible.' - Daisaku Ikeda
We’d catch the same train
DESTINATION, NOW-OR-NEVER
We’d catch the same train
to work, and (more often than not)
the same train home again,
alighting at the very same station,
and I didn’t dare say a word
lest my voice betray the extent
of my growing attraction
to his looks, smile, even the way
he would idly play
with his necktie while gazing out
at the world rushing by,
(unmoved by our leaving it behind)
a frantic desire in me
that we share an impossible dream
of incredible intimacy
One wintry evening, snowing,
trains running late so we had to wait
on the station concourse,
eagerly watching out for signs of life
on the departure board,
and he stood by me, commenting
on the inability of trains
to run to schedule at the first hint
of weather like this,
and we chatted together like friends,
me, weak at the knees,
dreading the moment (all to soon)
making us strangers again,
and I would be left feeling even more
hopeless, helpless, alone
Suddenly, he's suggesting
we might go for a coffee while waiting
for the running-late train,
and I can hardly believe my own ears
or manage a silly grin
before we're on our way, small talk
order of the day
but more than enough for me just to be
in his company, flying high
on his voice, his smile, everything
about him taking me
where we dreamers fear being woken
at some reality check
throwing us into freefall for despairing
of love’s hurt garden
Over coffee, I continued to fly
on his every word, timbre of a voice
making my spine tingle
as I wondered if he was single, attached,
married, with a partner,
bi-curious, even gay, although no idea
how to ask so said nothing,
feeding on our small talk as a sparrow
might on garden crumbs
after a heavy snowfall, wanting to live,
needing to survive,
mind-body-spirit on the same autopilot
that would have us on the run
from scary unfamiliar circumstances
outside our comfort zone
We exchanged first names,
and a few (irrelevant) personal details
before an announcement
over the tannoy, our train arriving soon,
time to be on our way;
it was now or never, and I blurted out
how I liked him a lot,
hoped we might be friends, inviting him
to make himself at home
in that place beyond words and temporality
where sexuality takes us,
plucking heart from sleeve, refusing
to (ever) let us go free
until we agree to keep it safe, nurture
through season after season
He suggested with a cheeky grin
that we start over, have another coffee,
catch another train,
idly playing with his necktie, confiding
I was an unknown quantity
and he'd, oh, so wanted to know more,
but mind-body-spirit
had been too shy to ask for fear of breaking
the spell I had him under,
leading him to imagine us together
ultimately, intimately;
any last minute doubts abandoned me
to a high, the more so
for we two having ghosted such dreams
as we'd thought impossible
Copyright R. N. Taber 2015; rev. 2020
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