i sat
in that stairwell
nursing
some small
disappointment
that i had conjured
up
to be major.
a missed connection—
a star-crossed
dream of youth,
a minor hurt
that would be outshined
later
by
the real thing.
it was
the time
of openings
as well as closings.
soul covered dances
Aretha howling
bleeding into
the mystical sound
of a recorder,
the voices of
Grace Slick.
and
Marty Balin
surrealistic,
but no cover,
no pillow,
and no place
to rest;
just movement
and change
candles
in Chianti bottles
and Black boys
that wanted sex
i would
deny.
i am weary
and waxing
nostalgic
but,
is there
something
better
in this time
of forgetfulness
and mis-
fortune.
yet a new loneliness
tempered
by
time,
emptiness,
and
choice
has
surrounded
me.
Linda Tauhid
©️11/19/23