DEP PROSE POEM
Finding Love in London
A Romantic Escape
London, I thought.
I’d always wanted to go,
but life had a mind
of its own.
I smoked a cigarette
with one hand,
and ran my fingers
through my thick, dark
hair with my other hand.
I stood on the pine balcony
of my two-story home.
The stacks of evergreen trees
clustered through a forest
beyond the tall oak fence.
Deer peeked their heads through
the trees now and then,
but stayed out of the yard.
I bagged raked leaves in black
trash bags and set them
by the gray garbage can.
Translucent smoke
from neighbor’s woodstoves
embraced the changing season.
Memories of cracking flames
over pine wood brought me
back when loneliness chained
me to the couch for the winter.
I finished my cigarette
and tossed into an old coffee
can on the glass outdoor table.
It was an earthy aroma, like the damp soil
after a rain, with a hint of sweet,
caramelized sugar from the burning wood,
a subtle tang that reminds you
of the wild, untamed forest.
Macy promised to take me to London
and I had my bags packed,
and took time off from work.
Macy was a flight attendant
with first-class tickets.
I messaged Macy on a dating app three months ago, and she replied.
We’d been an item ever since.
Macy’s long, dark hair and pale skin gave a goth look,
but her deep blue eyes sailed the ocean in my heart.
Macy posed in pictures before work.
She wore dark skirts and tan heels to work.
I just wanted to go anywhere
with Macy, sipping wine above the clouds.
I’d get satisfaction out of making a mistake.
Maybe even the biggest mistake of my life,
but I’ll take the chances for the experience.
I buttoned up my Timberland shirt.
A rapping at the door startled me as I put aftershave on in the bathroom mirror. I picked up my phone and saw Macy standing with her arms looped around her waist on a doorbell cam from my phone.
I moved to open the door.
“You still up for the flight?” Macy waved two tickets as she moved past me. I closed the door.
“I took you,” Macy said, brushing her sleeve over her damp eyes. “London,” she said, “I’m London.” She lay in the dark sectional by the fireplace as she needed me to hold her.
I rested my hands on my hips, looking for a crack in her face. “Running from an abusive ex?” I rubbed the back of my neck.
London kicked off her heels and nestled in a beige blanket. “More or less,” she said. “My ex punched holes in the walls.”
“Did he ever — ”
“No,” London said, “but I knocked him out cold when he told me I’d never amount to anything. He was drunk, but I was tired of that excuse. And your sister said you’d never hit a woman.”
“My sister?” I said, arching a brow.
London moved her eyes around like I should have figured it out. “Um, yeah, I did some digging on you and realized I went to college with your sister. I contacted her, and she said we’d be a match made in heaven.”
I looked around at my parents, smiling, on the maroon walls, knowing my late parent would approve of her.
Inside, the living room was a cozy haven of autumnal tones. A plush, knitted throw blanket in a warm rust color was draped over the armchair, while a collection of amber glass votive candles cast flickering shadows against the wood-paneled walls. A centerpiece on the coffee table features a cluster of miniature pumpkins nestled amongst sprigs of dried eucalyptus and a few cinnamon sticks, their earthy scent filling the air with a comforting aroma.
London lifted her head off the pillow. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“I’ve never been on a plane, but I don’t think I could get any higher.” I smiled.
“I love you,” she said, smiling through sobs.
(© 2024 AC)
(Amazon Kindle, Spillwords, The Writers Club)
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