The Novel Woman
This morning I saw her tango shoes at my door.
I lost my senses for a moment.
"Maybe I could keep them.
They look good at my door."
I thought.
I reluctantly decided to give them back.
She had left them at the milonga last night.
I drove by and dropped them off.
"Shoe delivery!"
I said.
She, her husband, the dogs, the cat and I
Talked for a while.
But my mind wandered for a while
Back to the shoes by my door
To a pretend world, a woman in my life.
She was upstairs watching a tango video,
Telling me to come upstairs.
To see.
She just took a shower.
I felt her presence, good to have her here.
I was fooling myself that I could live without her.
I told myself.
Yes, I was fooling myself.
I had to give the shoes back.
No woman upstairs,
Freshly out of the shower,
Talking to her dog, as if he understood,
Swooning over a tango film clip
On the computer screen.
My shoes sit now alone at the door.
I wonder if they are angry at me.
Her shoes told me more about myself
Than I was ready for this morning.
The novel woman,
A fiction written
Just for me.
By a lonely heart.
Photo credit:
Anonymous Austin Photographer
"Los Zapatos Abandonados"
6 comments:
so beautiful, Mark. It sounds like a tango. It's surprising what brings those moments of the duende to the surface. To me it feels like the point, but occasionally also, weight of tango.
Did you write that? Oh so gorgeous....BP
Queridas BP y Mari... Thanks for your comments. Of course I wrote this, Señorita BP! Wonder if you recognize the shoes. ;-) Another tanguera that wrote me an email suggested that it would make great tango lyrics (Mari too). Well, maybe I can convert this to Spanish, make the words more lyrical, and give them to Austin's Piazzolla Quintet for a melancholic tango. A ver que pasará.
No creo que el poema puede ser más hermoso - incluso en español. :)
How about a Tango with English words so English speakers can be moved by the words as well as with the music? Eileen
Beautiful Mark!
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