The Bar Atlantique

I pass the Bar Atlantique,
I know you are waiting,
wired as always,
a thousand gadgets
to hand, while
your long legs
perch either side
of a chrome and
leather stool.

It is busy as usual,
waiters in long aprons,
black trousers,
white shirts
rush, balancing trays,
frantically scribbling,
customers,
mouths dribbling
trying to decide,
looking aside,
trying to see
what others
have chosen

I haven't chosen you,
I'm the illusion
that you won't
quite give up on,
the girl on that
wet pavement,
rain slashing down,
a strapless dress
with heels,
so improbable
for a downpour
in summer,
one sudden moment.
You haven't moved on,
or even realised
the girl in your heart
moved out, moved on.

We meet, once in a while,
hardly at all,
I don't answer your calls,
reply to your mails,
I think of excuses,
you choose to ignore.
I used to see you at
weddings, christenings,
now it's funerals
with sombre tones
only the intonation of
who we once were.

The Bar Atlantique
its wares, where
shoppers, bankers
and impossibly
young people meet,
cheerfully they eat,
dipping fingers in bowls
of lemon iced water,
a tank where the
lobster and crab display
the dismay
that I try not to show.

You're watching the door,
I look at the floor,
standing you greet,
as usual impeccably neat;
you've saved me a stool,
how I don't know
but its there,
marked just for me.
A kir, an aperitif,
times have moved on.
'No, the journey was smooth,
the ferry was late,
I got in at nine, although
it should have been eight.'

'How long am I staying'
I'm praying you don't ask
as I just won't reply
I don't want to be here,
now, in this place.
I dread what comes next,
As it inevitably does
the answer's the same,
regardless of fate, or life,
or really just anything.

You stand then you sit
so terribly close,
lingering on my fingers
just a tad too long,
those kisses on my cheeks,
just a bit too familiar,
You seem impervious
as I edge ever further.
I leave in under an hour,
I lie about a
previous engagement.
I know you are hurt,
I'm just too
lost for words.

Twenty-seven years
is a very long time,
the rain has dried
that dress is a rag
I haven't seen for a while.
That girl on the pavement,
she long disappeared,
you haven't moved on,
that's what I feared.
I leave with the ghost
that shivers between,
the tears I shed
are disguised by the rain.




Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 457 times
Written on 2013-05-24 at 15:01

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In this You cannot help but bring your reader with you and in fact become you. Then the reader feels the disappointment and the futile attempt, the struggle, the evasion and the tension... so strong is the writing...I love it:)
2013-05-27


Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Very nicely written, Elle. The story rings true for me, though I don't understand the tears. Once I'm back out on the sidewalk, I breathe a sigh of relief.
2013-05-26



Yet another of your excellent texts. I can almost feel the noise and the awkward movement of this one. The final four lines bring a strong, layered relief. *Wow*
2013-05-24