The fate of your flowers

Being lonely was not nice,
Thus decided was my resolve,
and then I chanced upon you
standing there in a corner of the store staring at a child's doll.
Your face was thoughtful, your body language awkward,
Your clothes like they never saw the underneath of an iron,
The way I wear all of mine till today.
Your hair was simply free to hang the way it pleased,
Your face unblemished by the viles of modern cosmetology.
Your eyes were kindly, but your brows were determined.
You hands were slight.
But you held your hips like those hands could pluck them out.
I was filled with an urge to hold you...
So I stared at you a bit without you knowing.


Days passed and I never saw you again
My mind fondled your face now and then
While my loins responded with angst time and again.
I felt intrigued by you, and so did my hormones respond thusly;
A strange lightness in the head, A weirdness in the belly.
Such creatures we are, yet so compartmentalised we have to be for society.
Must we? Fussy, I find it all. Pointless motions in propriety.
I went to the store to buy provisions, and I passed a florist.
You would love flowers wouldn't you? I'd buy you lilies.
You'd accept them and bury your face in them to take in a long deep whiff.
My loins made me blush while I shopped that day.


Do you read books I wonder, and what kind?
Do you let loose your mind to wander?
Do you like the feel of water on your body, and
Would you seek the luxury of eating lying down?
I wonder how your body would lay if you did that,
would it look awkward like the day before?
Or would you just let it fall in place like waves on a shore,
while each bone and muscle found its posture with ease.
Each limb stretched just right, your hair ends hanging off the side.
Would you slowly stroke your shins as you contemplated intently
the passage you are reading from the book in your hands,
while your breasts jostled unabashedly inside my loose shirt.
Condemned we are by our dreams and desires,
Nay forlorn we are in the dirge of our existential rite.


I'm a grown man, and so I should be all composed and right.
I think I am most of the times, despite my capriciousness and want for a good fight.
I work hard doing what many people would say is not a bad job,
I also do sports and give to the right cause.
I'm fairly travelled and fairly well read;
standards of the modern unabashed libertarian proud head.
I simply wonder if you've ever walked bare feet on grass that's wet
from an early morn's dew; you look like someone who would've done that,
and a few bizarre and admirable things too. Someone with quirks.
Someone others might even aspire to be one day.
You seemed free the other day when I stared at you with a side gaze.


It's been months now, I've forgotten you.
The fickle mind has mused over other charms that came its way.
But none could hold its sway as you did the other day.
Just that one day. Gosh the memory of you was insistent.
I walk out of my workplace now, I think I'll take a stroll
along this nice boulevard I cross to take the train.
Maybe I'll even listen to a song as the late afternoon sun wanes.
It's the nice bit of this quarter in town, the streets are wide,
the sidewalks amply broad, and I can walk without worrying
about running into something or somebody scurrying.
The sun is still out, shining warmly. I close my eyes a bit and absorb that.
"Oops!!... err... I'm sorry. Dunno......." I crashed into someone eventually.
Shit! Smile. "No, no... I'm sorry.... I should've been looking where I was walking", she exclaimed profusely.
I stopped to look at the person behind those tinted glasses and summer hat.
She looked a bit taken aback. My incredulity at maintaining a stare at that!
"Sorry again, bye!" She started to hurry off, gathering herself, running her hands through her hair nervously.
"It's you...." I exclaimed almost inaudibly. I don't think she heard me.
I could still hear her footfalls fading hurriedly.
I stood there a while, dazed, just staring away from her, lost in thought.


The next day I bought lilies. I walked with them in my hands along "my" boulevard.
I walked its entire length twice hoping I'd run into you again. Same time as yesterday.
Was I being a creep? What if you saw me from afar and decided to avoid me anyway?
What if you never did take this boulevard regularly?
My heart and hormones were beginning to play tricks on me.
I was filled with angst, hopelessness and a bit of desperation at the thought of not seeing you.
I passed some people who looked at me and then at the flowers in my hands.
I guess my face betrayed my emotions before I could even correct my demeanour and stance.
I think my shoulders drooped a bit. I may have dragged my feet.
I walked home and gave the lilies to a homeless lady on my street.
She gave me a long hard stare; confused at my offering.
She looked at my groin as I was leaving.
I wish I could tell her that there's no chance tonight lady:
"This shop's closed and the family is grieving".


A few days later, as I was walking to the store
Someone tapped me on my shoulder and I turned around before
they could say a word more,
to see the countenance of the one that interrupted my extremely pointless gait towards the store.
It was the homeless lady from the other day.
She smiled. She seemed cleaner than she seemed the other night, by the way.
She still had the lilies in her hands, a bit withered now. She gushed as if with gratitude.
She opened her mouth to say something. I didn't know what to say, did she want me to give her some food?
I smiled. She blushed again and looked at the ground, and then fleetingly back at me.
She liked me, I think. She seemed to be my age, a bit round, a bit plain.
I began to notice her more and more as she stood there shying away.
She had demonstrated modest confidence in her approach, yet there was a delicateness in her display.
Her kindly eyes were even more clear now on her simple, yet sincere, face.
He temples resembled those of someone who's lived a hard life, yet knows tenderness and affection's grace.
I can confirm her clothes never have seen the underneath of an iron, no doubt.
And she was awkward as can be. I smiled at her again.

We stood there for a while blushing at each other.

(12 april 2016, Marseille)