Sometimes we must steal and loan kisses…


 Sometime we must steal and loan kisses…


Beautiful lady arrived at the Austin’s tavern at twelve pm trying to escape the Texas Summer heat. Once she wanted everything and more, now she needed the Long Islands ice teas. She was a beauty and the men knew, she wanted the Jazz songs and the silence.


Every Friday night, I followed her into the Jazz club and I watched her beautiful face. I could see her hazel eyes that had turned grey and the hardness in the movement of her face. She shared fake smiles with the bar keep and she loved the silence. I wrote a poem for her.


                       “Sleeping beauty…


Pretty things can break easily, some broken things cannot be fixed. Beautiful face don’t mean hopeful heart. Sometime Sleeping Beauty, don’t want to be awaken.
Wise men know, when the woman seek the comfort of the Jazz and the drink, their eyes faraway, wishing to be elsewhere, leave them be.
I left a note for her, sometimes we must steal and loan kisses. Sometimes we must accept enough, we ain’t dead and bury yet.”


I went near her, laid the poem near her drink and I went to my corner. She read the poem and she looked at me, my pen and journal. I saw her pondering my face, my purpose. She laughed and smiled. Held the poem to her heart.


I turned away from her, allowed her to be what she needed. I understood. I felt a gentle touch and the beautiful woman looked hard into my eyes. She whispered, damn poets think words can awake a sleeping heart. You word men think life is love, love is life. She reached out her hand and she told me my name is Luna. I took her hand and I told her. My name is Johnnie and I believe. Love hurt, love make us bleed till we cannot. I am sorry to interrupting your quiet.


She smiled and her grey eyes begin to turn blue and she laughed. She asked the bar keep for two Long Island ice teas and she told me. Mr. Hemingway of Austin, Texas. Write me a poem to make me feel hungry for kiss and tell.

                                    “Pretty wishes…


When Cinderella don’t want to dance no-more, when honey kisses turn bitter, when we love the darkness, what have we be become?
Love be sweet, love be damned, once hopeful heart become black with memories. Do we accept less?
Lonely lovers make wishing well wishes, tossing coins into the deep well. Just pretty wishes, never to become true.
Dear Cinderella must decide, love or hate, sit or dance, sweet dreams or nightmares. We are the caretaker of our heart. Accept nothing or accept everything. Knowing.
We can fall into the sweetness of love, we can fall into the confusion of love.”


I gave her the poem and I watched her eyes when she surveyed my words. She looked-up and I saw her eyes dancing with color. Her hazel eyes, now wild and beautiful. She smiled and she whispered. Soldier, you make me smile, you make me laugh. Been a long time since I wanted to smile and laugh. Do you dance Hemingway?


I told her. Hemingway is always willing to dance and the dance hall is near. I would be willing and honored to take you dancing. She reached over and she gave me a long and sweet kiss. She whispered.
Sometimes we must steal and loan kisses dear poet.


                                      Dancing Coyote

Category : poetry
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