The wisp/ the kiss, the memory. Youth flies away.

The wisp/ the kiss, the memory. Youth flies away.

A Chapter by Coyote Poetry
"Chapter two." 

                                                 The wisp/ the kiss, the memory. Youth flies away.

(Youth flies away.—John Gay)

Beth set-up the chess board and she placed two chairs near. She went to the kitchen and she made coffee. She asked him. Are you hungry Johnnie? He told her, no. The coffee would be wonderful. She brought the coffee to him and she smiled. She told him. Don’t play easy Johnnie. I was told. I am a tricky chess players. You taught me well and I kept playing in the college library with the old men. I may kick your ass tonight. He loved this Beth already. He knew a nineteen year old girl wounded and scare. He gave her his back bedroom in his house and a job. He would cook for her, keep her safe. He remember reading his poetry to her. She became his editor and he taught her how to play chess. He remembered they went shopping for a chess game to many stores. He bought her a fancy one with beautiful artwork. Now the same board was in the front of him.

She studies his face and she asked. You are different Johnnie. You are not confused about life no-more. You have a old face now. Your face is like artwork. I want to touch each line on your face and know the story of it. He told her. Beth, you became a beautiful woman and you had done well. Your eyes are not afraid no-more. You have become a strong and proud woman. I am glad I could help you. You were a good friend. I never forgot you and I am sorry I got lost in the craziness of war, life. I got lost dear Beth. I loved the noisy taverns, I loved the faceless faces and places  where you can be invisible. I befriended the people who had spend all their hope already. Spend all their laughter already. I needed the safety of being a ghost in a loud world. To and fro we can go dear Beth. Where we go honey, no-one shall know.

Beth laughed at his words and she moved the white pawn to center. You damn writers want to be Salinger or Hemingway. You can’t have both. Like John Gay told us. Youth flies away and it cannot be found again. You better taste life before you can’t. You have always written with a down-falling pen. Seeking and seeing the bad over the good. You write with the pen of glory and honor and you don’t seek anything but solitude. You believe you had enough war, you believe you had loved enough. Now you observe life with the crimson vision. You have always did. Don’t pretty eyes, pretty smile and pretty words excite your soul. She came to him, laid her head into his lap. She looked-up and she took his hands. She kissed them and she told him. The hands of stone need to remember gentleness.

He told her. Men in the shadows love to listen, may they will steal a kiss. When a man’s “Well” is dry. He doesn’t want to buy more memories. He had learn. Life is toil, love can be hell and he knows. He had outlasted the shit and he doesn’t want no-more. She smiled at him and she asked. Please dance with me. I have some good songs to dance to  and I remember you taught me the Texas two-step. I want to dance with you again. He smiled and he told her. My cowboy hat is on and my cowboy boots are clean. You are so pretty and I believe I have a few dances left. She took his hand and he put on Tim Mcgraw song “Don’t take the girl”. She brought her body closer and they moved two to the left, one to the right. two to the left and one to the right. She told him. You and I will create a new chapter. Where we can win.

Dancing Coyote