POT SHOP MEETING

It's funny how the most important things in life

Seem to start out so innocently.

I was working in a legal pot shop

Selling cannabis, even making my own blends.

And he walked in late one night

Just before closing.

It was dark outside, there were no other customers,

And my first feeling was impatience.

I was ready to go home

I had been at the shop from early that morning.

Had served a lot of customers, made a lot of batter,

Did a lot of business with brand dealers on the phone.

It was time to pick up Anne Sexton

And sink down into sweet melancholia in a hot bubble bath.

I didn't even notice his face at first,

Although I smiled and spoke my usual greeting.

But when I looked up and into those eyes,

A memory of a lifetime flashed through my mind.

We hadn't been together long,

It had started on fire with no where to burn,

And once it destroyed everything in it's path,

                                 It was over.

He was smiling at me, almost shyly,

And I smiled back although I was studying that face,

     those lips, those eyes.

He was older, of course,

There were some grays, a few wrinkles near his eyes

But they were the same sky blue.

And his lips, that beautiful mouth

Had that same old smile,

And I just knew he kissed the same way;

He had a samurai tongue.

I grinned, we still hadn't said a word

Staring at each other, taking each other in.

He was beautiful enough to be cruel

But man enough to be kind.

And he had the heart of a lion.

I had adored him, had worshiped him.

But I was never sure if I loved him or not.

Although I knew he loved me madly.

He put his hand on the counter,

And after a heartbeat, I laid mine on top of his.

It was like a surrender of sorts.

His fingers intertwined with mine,

And our eyes met again, still not one word.

It began to rain

And I felt my soul begin to rise

To meet his, dancing in those drops.

We never even said hello.

But I saw my future, or at least part of it

Laid right out before me.

TAPE AND STRING

This day felt like one of “those” days

And it was almost over already.

I knew I was early and would have to wait,

But I had a secret romance

With train stations.

And even in the rain, this one,

With its art deco station, gas lights, and silver benches,

     Didn't let me down.

I was going to be traveling for days,

All the way from Pennsylvania to Montana,

Because I had a calling I couldn't explain to myself,

Much less any one of my friends or family.

There was something waiting there for me,

     And I had to meet it head on.

It was going to help me repair some damage,

To fix some things being held together

     With just tape and string, 

Things I needed to be whole again.

I didn't know anyone there, I didn't even know where to stay,

But I had my savings

And the good street sense growing up that Pittsburgh taught me

And the good common sense my parents taught me.

I also had my safety shields up and on full blast

     and I don't want to say who taught me that.

The train pulled in and I entered slowly

Knowing what I was doing was right

Although it was confusing as hell.

I had a sleeper car in the back and after dropping my things,

I swung by the cocktail car and got a cold martini,

Taking a seat near the windows, watching the steady rain.

As we pulled away,

Pittsburgh called me to come back, don't leave!

You're safe here with us, we are your home!

     But I hadn't been safe in a very long time,

And my soul knew that Montana had a remedy for tape and string.

Because I knew if those safety's slipped away, I would too.

The bar car was empty but it was beautiful;

It looked like it was made in the 30's with carved smoky glass,

Leather booths, low lights, and the smell of good wine.

That was why I ordered the martini, I didn't really want one,

But Sinatra was playing quietly and it was like a sweet puzzle piece that fit.

You had to be traveling with a sleeper car to gain entry to the deco bar,

     And it was nearly empty.

A couple entered but I was more interested in the rain,

Than people watching, until a man entered a little later.

I watched him order a drink and take a seat near another window.

He was dressed in blue jeans and flannel, long silver hair and tired blue eyes,

And I wondered if he didn't know the story of the tape and string.

He took a long sip of his whiskey and turned and smiled at me,

A question on his face. 

I slightly nodded and went back to my rain.

I was embarrassed, I realized I had been staring.

It was just that he had transported me back or perhaps forward

To a place I didn't even know existed.

And I felt …. solid and whole,

     Just looking at his face.

I sighed and laughed inwardly, when was the last time I felt like that?

And why from a total stranger, why not a lover or a friend?

Life was always a serious of unanswered questions,

That never really made sense of the game.

The lights in the bar carriage were dim and the bartender

Brought me another martini, three olives for luck.

It was nice here, I felt …. inside myself somehow.

     Inside the rain, inside myself.

It had started to storm and I was comforted.

I wanted so much to look at that stranger again,

But I didn't dare

Not so much for embarrassing him or myself,

But for the fear of that amazing feeling not coming back.

The light suddenly shifted near me.

I glanced up and the stranger asked if he could take a seat.

I nodded, no words forming at all.

He sat his drink on the shining black table next to my martini,

And I looked deep into those tired blue eyes.

Let it be known

He wasn't here to save me, I was going to do that myself.

I didn't need a prince or a hero, I covered that alone.

But there was warmth and comfort in a companion,

With tired blue eyes that held no harm,

And grace in a mouth,

That offered nothing but a smile.