Dirty little secrets….
Me and Liz walked the path where the boats docked by the river leading to the Lake St. Clair. She took my hand and she interlaced them tightly and she turned to me. She reached for face, brought her face to my face and gave me warm kisses. I saw tears falling from her beautiful hazel eyes as she felt my need to escape her. She knew I savored her kiss as I brought her nearer and she knew we were heading for maddening dreams that could not be.
I took her to my Witch tree that faced Lake St. Clair. We sat on a small bench and we watched the lake dance. Today was a windy day. Lake St. Clair was alive and perfect. I looked at her and I whispered. Dear Liz, my Elizabeth. You know I have dreamed of you. Today with your auburn hair blowing in the wind and the touch of your hand. Made silence dream come alive. You are so beautiful to me. A dead emotion I try to keep hidden in a journal with permanent lock.
Dear Liz smiled and put her face into my chest. She whispered. “You are right Johnnie. If we dance the devil dance and fall into sanctuary of the wicked dance where we would show true face. We couldn’t return to the place we left.” I caressed her bare legs barely covered by her Summer dress and I told her. Dear Liz, my Elizabeth. You will be my first and last wish. We can’t start a fire that be put out.
Liz got up. She pulled me to her and embraced me tightly and she whispered. “Many foolish people who accepted less and they will wish for more.” She gave me a long and final kiss and she left me with the Devil tree alone and wishing for her.
A week later. A poetry reading in Mount Clemens. A friend requested me to read. I walk in at 8 pm and I ordered a Long Island ice tea and I listen to the Poets and the Writers. I went and I signed-up to read. I brought my journal with me and as I waited. I wrote words for the only person upon my mind.
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The darkness rhythm..
Skin on skin, lips upon lips. Bodies seeking unholy place and proper ending.
I told the Devil. Give me what I need. I shall accept the payment in hell one day.
The Devil don’t give us what we need. He shared glimpses of the suicide needs.
I want you. I need you and I would die for you.
Pretty lady, you make me dream.
You taught me to love wild and you taught me madness.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
Words, never to be spoken except in lonely room where the Poet’s pen unravel his heart and soul.
—–
Dear lover..
You came to me at Lake St. Clair. Your Summer dress allowed my eyes to worship tan perfect legs and I loved your eyes. Those eyes wild and blue like the wild sea. I wanted to consume you from tender feet to perfect mouth. I told you. I have loved you since I saw you at the lake in the Summer. I wanted to hear your voice and awake with you in a warm bed and never release you. Dear Lover, my secret love. You left me in tangle dreams and places where the Poet’s rely on myth and tale. You became my Dante’s dream. My last wish.
—–
I was called to the stage. I read the two new poems. I was given a polite applause. I looked in the audience and I saw Liz. I went to her and I embraced her and I kissed her. I asked her. How did you know I was here dear Liz?
She had soft tears in her eyes and she whispered. ” I know where the Poets hide. I loved the poetry. Words for a lucky woman. Will she know you love her one day? Are your foolish writers wanting a Dante’s wish. To live a sparse life in the emotion of love? To have and hold a Beatrice wish. Write a thousand words for a lover to lie dead till it doesn’t matter anymore?”
I looked into her eyes. Her eyes were looking wild and untamed. She wanted answered and proper words spoken. I told her. My Liz, my beautiful Elizabeth. I would know utopia with you and you know you are my muse and my siren. I have loved you since I heard your sweet voice and when you walked away from me. Your movement of hips and legs made me wish to be at your feet and to look into your eyes forever.
She smiled and looked me in my eyes. She whispered. “Where do people go when they have no place to go? Where does love hide when it begged to be yelled out to the sun and the moon? Johnnie. We are like gunfighter. Die or run?
John Castellenas/Coyote