Isadora

Foreign job, foreign bar
foreign point of view
drinking local liquor
looking, there, at you,
Creeping towards evening
but still afternoon
a flight to catch at midnight
tomorrow is coming soon,

Passport in my pocket
pack and roller bag
visually suggesting
you sit here by my side,
You rise and glide towards me
a sensual sashay
click our drinks together
‘may I sit?’ you say,

Wearing ex-pat casual
a twinkle in your eye
khaki skirt slides several
inches up your thigh,
As you sit beside me
“tell me who you are
drinking local liquor
in a local’s bar,”

“Just waiting for an airplane
waiting to meet you”
hair is straw blonde
eyes smoky blue,
Perfume smells of summer
a certain salty whisp
might be a real Rolex
telling time on your wrist,

You look and say “when
is your flight, to where”
you run a ringless finger through
your short straw blonde hair,
A twinkle in your eye
you put a hand on mine
it’s best to be careful
where to look, and what to find,

Ten hours later
eight miles in the sky
drinking name-brand liquor
watching time slide by,
Her name is Isadora
a casual concubine
I was an easy target
she was quick to find,

Traded Thomas Jefferson
was it five or ten
for a foreign fantasy
I’d probably do again,
Asked her why she does it
said she likes the thrill
look out my airplane window
and feel her tingle, still,