Reunion: Revisited

To The Lady on the Train,

I could not stop myself...

I fell and was lost in you all over again...

The Man in the Station.

Reunion

To The Lady on the Train,

It has been over a week since I have seen your face, your smile, your eyes... Today I will see you... I will get to be close to you - close enough to smell your perfume, to watch your hair move as your head tilts... I will see your fingers, the line of your shoulders...

I could let myself get completely wrapped up in you... I could fall right into your beauty, your voice, your gravity...

I could let myself fall and a large part of me wants to - oh I desperately want to... but I won't. I won't let myself fall. I am nervous about seeing you. I am never sure of the reception... I am never sure where you are... And so, I will keep myself close. I won't let myself become lost in you...

The Man in the Station

Distance

The distance between us is never constant. The physical distance between us has its rhythms... Our work, activities, schedules, trains... the patterns in our lives... I know when you will be physically closer or further away..
The emotional distance between us is more varied... there is no correlation to external events - no predictability... I have come to expect this – and every encounter, I test where you are – how close, how far...
There has been a shift lately... I no longer worry about the distance... I am not sure that I have hit the wall about caring about the distance... but part of me thinks that I have... I don’t want to say that I don’t care about the distance – but I can’t care about it, and so I have stopped...  I find myself not trying to judge the distance any more... and in a way, this creates a distance.
The distance between us is never constant.

Only you

To The Lady on the Train,

Under the height and weight of these downtown skyscrapers we walk along marble floors and pass through heavy glass doors - through hallways and courtyards.. past stores and food courts... the click of heals and the constant din of talking...It is a maze..

And it is where we spend much of our time... It is the waters we swim in - because we must...

This is where I see you - under these artificial lights and surrounded by these cold hard surfaces - the noise and motion surrounding us... But when I look at you, they all fade away - the world drops away, leaving only you and I standing there - walking through some hallway that I cannot pay attention to...

In the midst of the bustle I see only your smile, the tilt of your head and dark eyes shining back at me. The only motion is the sway and swing of your body as we walk, the changing curves of your back and hips with every step... the arch of your neck, curls framing the beauty of your face... the delicate V where your collar bones meet... your freckled shoulders and the soft skin along the back of your arms... the curve of your breasts and flair of your hips... the corners of your eyes and your smooth cheeks...

In the midst of the bustle I see only you.

The Man in the Station

Walk in the Rain...

To The Lady on the Train,

We walked together, side by side... close... Though the skies threatened rain, we walked... As a few drops started to come down, secretly, I was hoping for a downpour.. When the thunder rolled in the distance, I wanted to feel it shake my bones - I wanted to see the fork of lightening, hear the loud crack, feel the warm heavy rain.. I wanted to feel small compared to the storm, yet strong for facing it.. I wanted to be startled by it, frightened at it's potential - and to revel in it... and to know that I will last after it has passed...

Somewhere there was a storm - it was close - but this was not our storm.

We will wait. We will have our storm.

The Man in the Station

You were here...

To The Lady on the Train,

The shape of you rumples my bedsheets still. The pillow is still hollowed in the place where you lay your head... The signs of your presence may be fleeting, but the affects of your presence will last a lifetime.

The Man in the Station