Remembering Her

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Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 03/18/2021
Created 01/27/2005
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Remec
Remec
14 Followers

The glittering gold strewn about her shoulders
laid in counter point to the dark weave of her top
that beckoned to my fingers,
even as her blood-red lips called to my mouth,
and the warm popcorn-with-butter of her voice
dripped my name from hers.

"Remec? Aldarras? Fax?"
each inquiry was met with a look...
a cocked ear...
a raised eyebrow...
inviting her to continue
without actually saying so,
but then she said, "Sean?" and I nodded.
"Yes?"

She beamed and asked me if I loved her.
I tried to avoid the question,
hemmed,
hawed,
tried to dismiss it with a brief "Je ne sais pas"
only to have her repeat it.
I smiled and then shrugged.
"Prolly," I admitted, using one of her own favorite words,
"Coolness," she answered, doing the same to me.

Laughing, I took her hand and pulled her to me,
then switched to an arm about her waist.
We walked through the mall
just like that,
no pretensions,
no overt displays,
but I knew the mannequins whispered as we passed by.

We paused to look at them for a moment.
Resplendid in ivory, they stood
trimmed in Chantilly lace,
bouquets in hand,
garters upon shapely plastic thighs
that played peek-a-boo while they held up borrowed stockings.
They regarded us in silence while we watched
their practice ceremony.
In the glass, I saw how she was entralled by the display
before us,
saw it over and over,
reflections of reflections,
as the mall's mirrored surfaces revealed
what she wanted.

I dropped to one knee and took her hand once more.
Kissed it lightly,
lips barely brushed the leathered surface of her knuckles,
and asked her to marry me.
The mannequins began whispering again.

They're such rumor mongers, after all.

I should know.

Fax is an expert on rumours.
Usually in suffering to have them spread about himself.
Myself.
Not something I think I warrant.
But it will happen, regardless.
I will gather whispers,
and find furtive looks being exchanged behind my back.
And I will not care.

Not that I cared right then.
I didn't know if what we had was Love.
But I didn't care about that either.
All that mattered was feeling her body beneath my arm,
hearing the soft tap-tap of her shoes on the mall floor,
and smelling every word she spoke.

Which, I guess, told me that I did care.
That I loved her more than I realized.
The hidden sound of Love is the way it smells.
And listening to her always makes me hungry.

Remec
Remec
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2 Comments
AppleBiterAppleBiteralmost 19 years ago
This took me back

I love the casualness of this poem and the youth that it resonates. Reminds me of simpler times. Thanks for that. :)

My Erotic TailMy Erotic Tailalmost 19 years ago
memory lane

You have a grand pen-man-ship that sends the mind on a siling journey propelled by your witty write. excellent poetry ~~

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