Christmas, 1964, The President's Hotel,
Jerusalem.
I looked sixteen,
Maybe in size,
But not in years.
The tall, Moroccan,
Liftboy-man
Tenderly
Bent down,
And kissed me.
Gently probing
My tongue
Just like I'd read about,
On the plane,
A few hours
Before.
Sheer romance
And scientific curiosity
Combined,
Together
With
The voodoo magic
Of Jerusalem.
A palpable rush
Of excitement
Whirled round
That lift,
And then we arrived,
And I never saw him,
Again.
I flew back,
Almost a woman,
At ten.
Poetry by Esti D-G
Read 565 times
Written on 2007-05-19 at 17:59
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Jerusalem.
First Kiss, Last Kiss
I looked sixteen,
Maybe in size,
But not in years.
The tall, Moroccan,
Liftboy-man
Tenderly
Bent down,
And kissed me.
Gently probing
My tongue
Just like I'd read about,
On the plane,
A few hours
Before.
Sheer romance
And scientific curiosity
Combined,
Together
With
The voodoo magic
Of Jerusalem.
A palpable rush
Of excitement
Whirled round
That lift,
And then we arrived,
And I never saw him,
Again.
I flew back,
Almost a woman,
At ten.
Poetry by Esti D-G
Read 565 times
Written on 2007-05-19 at 17:59
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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