around and around... and around again...

She is not as shy as she pretends to be.
She is elegant and quite feminine. Reserved... and... very charming in a Lauren Bacall kind of way - think Bacall in “To Have and Have Not”... now you know what I am trying to say... she’s a woman... all woman. She knows what she has and she knows how to use it. Within the first hour of our meeting each other she has tested me over and over... and over again. So far I have proved myself worthy by indulging her ridiculous behavior... but it is what women do... and I - when I had reached my tolerance point for these little games, smiled - the way I smile when I am about to give a woman the big let down or the “it was very nice to meet you... I hope I never run into you again...” my “frankly my dear, I would have liked to gotten to know you better... but you’ve wasted so much precious time with your fucking little games...” she must have known that smile - perhaps she’s seen it before and put it to memory for future encounters with a would be suitor... she stopped long enough to allow me to be vulnerable and show her my humble, funny and boyish side... but she has already figured out that there is only so much shit that I will put up with... She already knew who I was though was uninformed of the specifics of my life. She works for the last client - the one from the “BIG PROJECT”. We were introduced through another member of the company whom I was advising privately on personal matters.  She strolled to our table at the coffee shop like a leopard among a heard of gazelles, many of whom stopped to admire and assess the danger they might be in. She joined us in a new conversation of her choosing until my acquaintance departed... non too soon as I was immediately taken in by this young feline - her walk, her clothes, her hair... the soft delicate tone of her voice and the dull olive hue of her skin. She wanted to learn more about me and I wanted to talk about her... I tried to talk about fashion but she seemed bored with the topic... tried celebrity gossip but she wanted to have no part of that... hmm... what else do women want to talk about... politics? That wasn’t going to happen... so I gave in and opened up about myself to which she responded by opening up about herself... we opened up to the point that we spoke of our dreams and our fears... and as I was letting her believe that she was seducing me by letting me talk about myself - I got her to tell me about her childhood and her deepest secret desire... how it makes her feel to think of it... the joy it gives her... the pleasure she hides deep within her at the thought of her private mental hide-away... oh, dear sweet girl... I’ve been doing this for quite some time now... you didn’t have a chance when you made your way across the savanna... unless this was all your plan... and so we went around and around... and around again, giving and taking here and there until I took her by the hand and smiled - the way I smile before I give a woman my best Han Solo... “well princes... looks like you managed to keep me here a little longer...”
“I haven’t kept you from anything important, have I...?”
I shake my head with a crooked smile and a lazy left eye
“Actually I have about forty-five minutes to get to another meeting... but it has been a pleasure spending this free time with you...”
“When can we finish our conversation?”
“Whenever you like...” I reach into my portfolio and pull out a business card and I slide it across the table to her.
She reads it and smiles... nods her head approvingly... she turns it over and looks up at me...
“There’s no phone number on it... just your e-mail address...?”
I smile.
“Baby steps my dear, baby steps” she laughs - “I am a very busy man... you use that when your ready... I check my mail once at night...”
She isn’t quite sure of what to do or say... you wanted to play a game my sweet... the ball is in your court now.
She looks up at me... I stare into her eyes... I look at her... those polished amber stones... I look past her... and I think to myself in a whisper that only her soul can hear... “take it... you know you want to... take it... I’ll make it better than it has ever been... I will give you that passion that you secretly desire...”
She looks at me... she wants to speak but can’t find the right words... what would Lauren Bacall say in this moment we find ourselves in? I stare at her... my crooked smile beginning to form... my eyes begin to get narrow... she looks at me and I stare at her in silence... she lowers he gaze and places her hand at the bottom of her neck...her cheeks begin to rouge... and her smile becomes insecure... she nods her head in an almost unnoticeable manner... “I’ll drop you a line...” and she opens up her hand bag and places the card I gave her in her wallet - delicately, in the pocket in front of her drivers license... and she takes out her card and a pen... she writes her phone number on the back slowly... deliberately taking her time... almost as if she wants everyone to know what she is doing... I look over to a table of young girls sitting next to us... they smile at me and turn away giggling... young girls...
With as much style and presence as she walked across the room to the table she hands me her card with a flick of the wrist that any magician would be proud to master... I do not look at it. I slip it into the inside pocket of my blue blazer.
I extended my hand to her and she took it... I hold it delicately... perhaps longer than I should have, placing my other hand above it... “we’ll get together soon...” I tell her...
“We will...” she responds - the way women respond when they have abandoned their logic... and their belief systems for the hope of reckless, adulterated... passion.
I excused my self and made my way out and as I disappeared into the crowded city sidewalk I could feel the eyes of a hundred thirsty gazelles following me...

to be continued...

scenes from the long slow seduction...

going through my old journals this morning I came across some old poems  - this one, as silly as it may be - is now lost forever in the Deringer Files...

The rain followed us from West-Texas to Paris
And we laughed all the way
We lived our lives like rock stars
Now look at us today...
Now you prowl down the cat walk
And I write poems at the bar
Some nights you find the time to call
Some nights I don’t know where you are
And all my magazines let me know
When someone breaks your heart
But Heaven will never tell us
How we let it fall apart...

The rain followed me from Paris to Chicago
With no laughter and little fun
The tequila slowed me down
But my heart is still on the run...
Still I keep writing poems
And counting stars for you
And I keep looking for that one kiss
To pull me out of the blue
And I look for you picture
In fashion magazines
To see if I can find the smile

you used to smile for me...

 

love is a treasure.

as I walked out one evening...

for our non-Spanish speaking friends...

As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
'Love has no ending.

'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,

'I'll love you till the ocean Is folded
and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.

'The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world.'

But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
'O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.

'In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.

'In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.

'Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver's brilliant bow.

'O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you've missed.

'The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.

'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.

'O look, look in the mirror?
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

'O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.'

It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.

me gustas cuando callas...

un adios anunciado...