40 Year Hiatus

It's 8:15 on a Saturday night
a mirage appears in the studio light
a woman I knew forty years past
in an evening dress, with a Champagne mask,
Some artsy party, some worthy cause
defying all probability laws
that we would ever get together again
she blinks and says "...how have you been...?"

We were friends, lovers, one spring
it might have been a serious thing
but we were young, in a rush to explore
the whole world from surface to core,
So we hurried off in opposite ways
but we said we'd meet, "one of these days"
well I guess that day has finally appeared
we both concur it's rather weird,

We empty our glasses examine the art
the studio small, not far from the BART
she has a date, a friend of a friend
but says the commitment is easy to bend,
We thank the host, go out to the street
both feel lightness under our feet
I'm Downtown, we work our way there
I tell her I liked the cut of her hair,

We get a bottle of wine on the way
in the elevator I recalled the day
we first had sex at a hippie retreat
both of us walking in bare feet,
My back bare and her bare breasts
in one of the cabins we took off the rest
the old bed rattle, squeaked and groaned
perfunctional sex, delightfully stoned,

Next day we drove off together
Rainy, cloudy, getaway weather
at the top of the pass we climbed in the rear
of my Saab 95, our intentions clear,
Back on the road through Leadville Town
two more stops and we quickly found
that we fit together in multiple ways
dashing through the relationship maze,

In a basement we lived as I finished school
her intention, it seemed, to wear out my tool
nude she would paint, water colors and ink
step back and ask "what do you think...?"
I said her art was stark and erotic
the mix of ink and color exotic
and the naked artist, a joy to behold
I'd hand her a joint, freshly rolled,

Stoned sex was our standard diversion
each and every Kama Sutra version
then we'd munch crackers and cheese
cross-legged in bed, post-coital tease,
For a couple months as spring flowers bloomed
we knew, long term, our bliss was doomed
I graduated, she longed for the ocean
our last day we just went through the motion,

We kissed goodbye and agreed it was great
a mix of serendipity and fate
we said, who knows, forty years hence
we'll give our love another chance,
Elevator opens, the room card clicks
I drop the wine and think of Rick's
Bogart and Bergman will always have France
we kiss each other and awkwardly dance,

Across the room to the king-size bed
with no marijuana to turn the sky red
what have we done the last forty years
I watch us make love in Four Season mirrors,
Completely different, completely the same
like the back of my Saab in the mountain rain
less flexible yes, but almost time travel
the judge shouts Guilty and slams down the gavel ...