tagNon-Erotic PoetryThe Train to Barcelona

The Train to Barcelona


My second cup of coffee
Grows cold as I wait
For the train to Barcelona
And a women I'll call Kate,

We met at the market
Shopping for a vase
Displays of fresh-cut flowers
Unforgettable face,

We both were heading south
With vague destinations
neither of us looking for
Long term relations.

The train leaves in minutes
Taxi squeals to a stop
Kate emerges smiling
Like a cork about to pop,

From a Champagne bottle
At a party for a stranger
Someone who has style
A thin veneer of danger,

Kate throws me a kiss
The train whistle blasts
Collects her Gucci satchel
Soon we're rolling fast,

Through the country side
Of dreams and desire
Seeing how much current
We can push through the wire,

We trade life stories
Half truths and outright lies
Who we wish we were
Under summer skies,

Novels not written
Poems never printed
Life through safety glasses
Rose-color tinted.

Kate kicks off her shoes
Puts her feet on my knees
My hands find her ankles
Half comfort, half tease,

The beverage cart comes by
Kate asks for a Campari
With a twist of orange
I doubt she'll be sorry,

A women in the present
No past that I discover
What is she seeking
Lunch, or a lover.

The train speeds smoothly south
Through morning countryside
Kate falls to sleep
Warm against my side,

And I dream of summer flowers
Fresh cut in the vase
I bought in the market
Just before I saw her face.

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bycavu182© 2 comments/ 1315 views/ 0 favorites

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