familiar scene

An outdoor patio. Whiskey, Cigarettes. The same scene again, ten years later. More gray hairs, some baby crows feet.

Alone this time. No boisterous exchanges. Just quiet. Watching the crowd. Observing the new crop of faces, with that same vulnerable look that they don’t realize lingers on the soft edges of their young faces. Desiring attention, desiring desire, desiring. Daring. Ready to take a chance, looking for a chance to take. Dousing themselves in alcohol for courage.

Older now, the alcohol served the purpose of flavor more than courage for anything. Comfort, too, perhaps.

Watching the crowd. A sea of unfamiliar faces. Eyes met and turned away from.

One set of eyes flickered with recognition. Still returning to this place, after all this time. Unexpected sightings.

The flood of body memory. Lips, illicit and irresistible, loveless and impossible. And unforgettable.

Whiskey consumed. Cigarette crushed out.

Those lips. Illicit. Irresistible. Indelibly imprinted upon memory. Suddenly present. With eyes flickering with recognition. Waiting. Questioning.

History could repeat. Perhaps history was meant to repeat. Perhaps there would be a different ending this time. Perhaps there would not be an ending.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s