this is on my mind


refrain 2



the scene is this

martha, the girl from the north country

who is seventeen to my eighteen

and i, after a chance meeting on the beach

have two days to spend together

before she returns to england and i to the city

it seems we have been pricked

by cupids arrows



time is precious

is slipping away

we want to walk in the surf

we want to lie in the sun

we want to have drinks as the sun sets

we want to dine under the stars

we want to do something romantic afterward

walk along the beach at dusk

dance cheek to cheek

we want to love the night away

and, since this first day is all but gone

we have only a day and a bit left to do all this


in the late afternoon

we walk knee deep through the surf

holding hands

watching for shells and rays

hoping to find a conch


we find two perfectly unblemished conchs

together, abutted

in the midst of something greater than themselves


we gently return them to the seabed


we find an intact sand dollar quite beyond such skylarking

and pick it up as a remembrance of our day

though shells belong on the beach, at home they fade and seem sad


the sun begins to set

we are loath to let this day end

but night, and its rewards, lie ahead


yet, we have no privacy

both of us are here with friends and shared rooms

on an economy plan, economy where none is wanted


we have drinks, the six of us, on the gulf-facing deck

as the earth rises to meet the sun

as the sun melts into the sea, sans green flash

it is lovely

the last hints of a pink and blue sky reflect in martha’s green eyes


we have dinner, all of us, at mad jack's

which specializes in tropical drinks

stone crab, snapper, lots of gulf atmosphere

and a guitarist singing of margaritaville


i gaze longingly at martha

she may be the loveliest thing i've ever seen in my life


i say that while freely admitting

i've said the same thing about other girls


no matter

i believe it at the moment

it is a thing of beauty

it is launching my ship


for dessert there is key lime pie, crème brûlée, carrot cake 

we, the six of us, order one of each, six forks and coffee, decaf, please

though, this is one night when sleep is not wanted

if, not to be coy, we can find a bed


the present company is good

we are enjoying ourselves 

though time is ticking, as is its wont

and the monday morning flight 

from fort myers seems all too imminent 


i telepathically signal martha

it is time to excuse ourselves, which we do


which is an interesting turn of events in itself

for it would have been terri sending me signals at home


it is too chilly to walk on the beach

and there seems to be no clubs nearby for dancing


we return to the resort, sit by the fire in the lobby

having another drink and talking 

i am enchanted by this woman

truly, wholly, deeply

all the while formulating the words i will tell terri

that will mitigate my impending infidelity


and oh what an infidelity i hope it will be

if hand holding on the beach 

is any indication of what's to come, and i think it is

it will be epic


sadly, we find no such awaiting bed 

and say goodnight with a chaste kiss

returning to our respective rooms and friends

to sleep in our spacious queen beds alone

finding solace where we can

poor substitute though it may be, and is


the next morning

on the beach

we share shy smiles

each wondering if this is for real


fingers touch, it is


the day is spent reading

walking along the beach

eating, drinking, talking

watching the sun set from the deck with drinks

dinner with our friends


it seems this will be a chaste friendship to the end


with good intentions we do not exchange email addresses

both of us having significant others


will i ever regret anything more

will she


all i have is the name of a town


and so the sun sets




the next morning i look intently into her eyes

as she looks into mine, and we almost know


we say goodbye


this has thrown me off-stride

my world is closing in, for the first time it feels too small

my sense of complacency has been compromised

i imagine myself britain bound

imagine myself in a wee town in the north of england

imagine charming cottages

tea shops

an ancient church inhabited by an ancient vicar

a shuttered colliery overgrown with greenage

ladies in tweed

men in tweed

dogs and cats in tweed

i imagine mr harriot treating tricky woo’s flop-bottom

tris playing the mad conductor

sigfried bombasting


i imagine myself knocking on doors

excuse me, have you seen this girl

though i have no pic

nor a police sketch for that matter

i have nada, zip


in reality i haven't a clue as to what i might find 

in a north country town, not even a wee clue


but, how hard could it be to find loveliest of all faces 

somewhere in this colorful picture i’ve painted


such are my thoughts on the flight from RSW to SFO

having fallen for what i cannot have 

while disregarding what i do

while letting go of the one thing i know with certainty 


             𝄆 i need a quiet girl to love 𝄇




                   babycakes, i’m home.


i don’t know if it was a case of out of sight, out of mind. i don’t know what it was. all i know, and i know this from here to there and back again, is that i love my terri. i love the way she loves me. she is adorable, her smile melts my heart, and after the sea has calmed we talk. i tell her about the trip, about meeting this beautiful woman named martha, how we walked together, hand in hand, how we found two conchs and a sand dollar, how she has the sand dollar. i talk about our two days of bliss on the beach, the drinks while watching the sunset, the fine food and company, the long talk we had by the fire, the chaste kisses, the longing, the unrequited passion, the final, sad goodbye.


terri says that’s so sweet, and i say it was. 


i suppose like all things, good and bad, sex becomes habitualized. i can only see that as a good thing. it means something. it means the infatuation has passed, and what is left is what is meant to be, or what is earned over time, by trial and error, and communication, silent or otherwise, the call and response, it very much means something. maybe it’s love, i’ve never fully understood the word. i seem to love too easily. 


we lie face to face. we kiss slowly, taking in each other’s warm breath. this is my favorite thing. we kiss for a long time, until our bodies will be still no longer, and the magic of it, sex, begins, the first little movement of the hips, the first little arch of the back, fingertips grazing here then there, the kisses becoming deeper and longer . . . something changes, pheromones, musk, i don’t know, but something changes, voices grow huskier, wants become clearer, demands are made, spoken and unspoken, bodies respond in give and take, our primal nature comes out, and the beauty of terri, of which i’ve written a thousand words, is that in passion she is happiest, and gives and takes as freely, as joyfully, as, yes, dolphins frolicking. it’s true, and she sweeps me up and takes me with her. 


do i think of martha as we leap and dive? maybe. 


this may be a poor time to quote nietzsche, but this comes to mind, He who cannot give anything away cannot feel anything either. I wish he had thought to say he or she. That aside, it’s true. terri gives because she’s generous, because when she is giving me pleasure, she is taking pleasure. all deeds are selfish, we all know this. terri taught me how to give, but more importantly, she taught me how to receive, and believe me, i’ve caught my breath in the process, lying stock still in disbelief, frozen at some new sensation as she coaxes something new from me, something i hadn’t know was within. it’s a gift she has. 


i may need a quiet girl to love someday. i hope i find one. terri, i’m sure she’ll move on. we’re young, she’s adventurous that way. i’ll begrudge her nothing. we want different things, we’ve talked about this. no one said anything about forever.  it isn’t about love, we love each other, we never doubt that. this is about life, living a whole life, about sharing more than young love, more than passion, though not without passion. martha may yet be the love of my life, i can’t see that far ahead. how can i when my body is nearly rigid, when terri has me so nearly there. someday, maybe, i’ll want a quiet girl. not yet, i’m not ready to give this up, not as the waves begin to come crashing ashore. 

Poetry by one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 651 times
Written on 2015-03-25 at 15:00

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The images of England are lovely and the thought of asking house by house, 'have you seen this girl?' without a picture, made me smile. You are such a romantic soul, yet it makes me think of something I would think of doing in one of my more romantic moments. :-)

I think it was a magical moment shared while you missed terri. You'll never know how it might have been ... which is sometimes a good thing, since imagination can be better than reality at times.

I enjoyed reading this.