Daydreaming on Guildford High Street
A lighter piece this. So easy to be transported from the now with the now
Stepping down the steepling cobbled High Street,
Past the detritus of the pandemic,
Shop closures universal, not endemic,
On the way to Luca’s for a lunch treat,
I’m ensnared by Massimo’s window sign;
“Final reductions! 80% off!”
Unable to resist such a bargain
(and loving all things Spanish, women and wine)
I enter, browse. There’s a discrete cough.
I turn, think I’m back in Eden’s garden.
Sun singing in her freckled eyes she smiles,
And I’m sold on the cotton shirts I’ve eyed
and her, transported back to the beginning
from where I fast forward to the ending,
her lips already on mine, hot sweat sweet
softly pushed into my mouth, tongue probing
against mine, body tender, stomach taut;
’96, it was, on the Ibizan beach
where we first met – I selling ice-cream cones,
she a maths post grad island hopping –
Stopped: explored each other’s peninsulas
Separated from the world,
Knowing only the other’s will,
The wild green bay of the flesh,
Invisible moons visible only to the other,
Lust rapidly changing into love,
And our lives adjusting to its nuances….
“Sir? Do you need any help in choosing?”
I shake off the visions, watch them dissolve,
Mumble, “Estoy mirando,” my heart guiding
Me back into the orbit of the heart waiting.