ny girl

by John E

some snapshot i found reminded me of the sweet
little crippled girl i knew back east in the city
and the days and nights on my mattress on the floor
and the hitching through snowstorms together
that bottle of wine chilled in snow on the sill
i could lift her easily i was so young

must have been difficult for some to know that sweetness
because of the way she walked with one leg swinging out
in a stuttered slow gait we were mistaken for brother and sister once or twice

we were content vegetable stews with any vegetables
found in the kitchen fresh or canned i was jobless
and living with friends rent was 85 dollars
we had no pretenses

and even though i could feel something
surfacing from deep within me every time she was around
i never said love i never said anything more
than what was needed to be said at any time on any day
to move us along and yes we were young and laughed and sang
friends saw more that remained undefined
never said love never made plans and now i don’t even remember

her name but when i saw this picture i saw her too
and i’m mad at myself for making that connection
a sorry tease a trick practiced somewhere in the synapses
but it started me to wonder where she might be and how she ended up
since the last time i saw her over thirty years ago pregnant and alone

a squatter in that cheap and by then abandoned apartment
with the phone cut off the door wide open i saw her then
after having been out west for a while and she was still sweet
a bit weary only

and told me don’t worry it’s not yours
still i worry still i imagine all sorts of days past and present
in that instant

you must know you must feel
somewhere deep inside how things such as these could be

© 2014 John E. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.