Strangers, trains and planes


c0d09-isadora_embed025_25ps_2010_12_08___12_10_38Strangers, trains and planes

A Poem by Coyote Poetry


Some people can’t be held down. Freedom is too valuable.


Strangers, trains and planes

She called my from Paris. She whispered I will be in Monterey soon.
I will meet you at the Monterey coffee shop on Tuesday.
She held a silence and I thought. I thought of the alluring beauty who wanted my time.
I told her. My love. I’m here in Monterey. Waiting for you.

We were strangers once. Planes and train kept us apart. We are still strangers.
She wanted everything and I wanted enough.

She told me. I’m glad. I hope you have not forgotten me. I’m lonely and sad. I need a place to rest.
I told her. You can confess your sins and sadness when I see you. I know my sweet Beatrice. Your
Gypsy heart need the harmony of new place and love. She whispered. I love you dear Poet. See you soon.

At the Monterey poetry reading on Tuesday. My many fans showed up. Old women and young girls. They called me the Poet of amore. They would hold my hand and read their words to me. I would kiss their hands and I told them. They were my muses. I waiting  and listen to the violin being played with skill by a amazing man. The song was alive and making the bookstore have vigor and hope tonight. I looked up. Beatrice walked in. Bright red lipstick and short red dress showing off her tanned legs. I stood up and she embraced me and kissed me.

I told her. It was wonderful to be able to see her. Was she okay? She looked sad and told me. I’m fine. Just needed you and the Monterey bay. I was tire of the big city and needy people. I have been living for nothing lately. I needed a vacation where I have time to regain my thoughts. I needed my dark Poet. Do you have time for me?

I told her. I’m on leave for a week. We will drive highway one to Washington state if you wish. I bought your cigarettes and Black Velvet whiskey. I want us drunk and dancing nude on the hidden secret beaches. Sweet Beatrice smiled. I need this dear Poet. I’m tire of strangers, planes and trains. I need to stop for a while.

She whispered. I have been quiet and tamed for too long. I want to be capture by the sea and people content with the sea and words. I want you to consume me and make me forget. I’m missing pieces and I have learn the treacherous way of the business world. I need some sunny days, laughter and the sea near. No dreary days.

I took my beautiful Beatrice to Big Sur. We drink the Summer wines at the River Inn. She told me. I had fallen into work. I lost my laughter. My want. Can I find her again?  I told her. We are lucky my love. Even when blinded by fake life and worldly goals. The eternal want to be held, kissed and dance with a lover near is never forgotten.

We drove to Pfieffer beach. We sat alone on the lonely beach drinking tequila. She asked me to dance with her by the sea. We walked to the morning sea. The sea was moving quickly so we tossed off our shoes. She embraced me tightly. We did a midnight waltz near the dancing water and I put my face into her hair. Inhaled her perfume of wildflowers sweet. I told her. We will be okay sweet Beatrice. Old Poet don’t want much lately. You are my last hope and breathe.

We return to the small fire. She looked sad and she asked me. I left many. Never a proper goodbye. Am I cold and heartless? I learned I was alone. I kissed her bright red lips and I whispered. Some of us need wine, dance and song. Gypsy hearts need the road, the journey to know peace. We live by the simple rules. Nothing can be owned. Love and friendship should be free.

She asked me where are we staying tonight. I told her. I rented a motel in Monterey. Near the city, so we can drink and be safe. She smiled and told me. I want us naken till noon. Us to bathe together. Forget who we are. I want us to be like children. You will be my Hemingway and I want to be your muse. We kissed by the Big Sur moon.

I did a silence prayer. I thanks the moon and the stars for one more dance with my sweet and kind Beatrice.

Coyote/John Castellenas   1995

© 2014 Coyote Poetry