At Ease With Elegance
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I saw her, it was noon in Sausalito, below the towering yacht masts.
It was the poetry of her movement, the dance of shoulder-blades, a smile that even the great golden ship in the sky could not match, and the unintentional wiggling of her lower posterior, but none of these were what attracted my attention; what I adored was her modesty. That thing which makes a man leap up. It was simply the serenity of a woman at ease with elegance. The kind of woman for whom you’d want private moonlight, a beach, and a table for two.
I’m running out of tomorrows, Sunday afternoons, and everything familiar.
I’m going to wait, enjoy my coffee on the patio at Cibo, maybe she’ll come back this way. Why not wait for the extraordinary? The sun glints off the yacht masts, bringing brightness to tree tops. Maybe I’ll write some verse, a few words of romance…
It’s the middle of the day in this lovely place
The Sausalito sun upon my face
My heart is battling to make things right
I’ve crossed the day’s border into the night
I wake in a sweat has it all been a dream
She melted away like vanilla ice-cream
I’m stronger now and this is my time
The dream walks with me, her hand in mine
Did she see me, I wonder, hiding my fears?
The smiles she saw were hiding my tears
Show me your face under a moonlit sky
At a table for two with a romantic guy
Love, like a wave, breaks on our shore
Up from our ankles, through heart’s open door
I saw her passing, the warmth of her smile
Hoping she’d stay and love me awhile
I find I’m dealing with age very badly. Slower, more tired, incapable of lifting a solid fist anymore. I’m done, I guess, ready for a new life. I find it hard to mix with people for long periods, having developed a kind of eccentric nature that scares people. They enjoy me for a short while and then let me go, quietly, before I become a bore. I try to leave people laughing, so I tell tales about why I must leave early and have a varied array of plausible excuses. One such is that I have a pet albatross living in my wardrobe.
Ah, I knew it, here she returns. Look at the poetry in the movement of her hips, even the sun dives behind a cloud, fearful of being compared, shoulder-blades dancing, a woman completely at ease with elegance.
Harry, darling. This is the wrong coffee shop! I’ve been looking all over Sausalito for you.
