LOVE FROM AFAR:

EVERY LITTLE THING SHE DOES IS MAGIC
The sun darting through the window in front of her passes through the chaotic fall colored print of her sheer dress. The light kisses the outline of her figure so that every contour is silhouetted for him. The rays splash around the edges of her full and untamed tawny curls. His eyes watch the ripples of motion her sleek curves make in the air. She shifts her weight several times unconsciously, standing poised. Her body rocks as if flowing to the rhythm of grace. He begins to measure her up.
Turning her head slightly she catches a glimpse of him watching her. Her breathing catches subtly out of time as she is arrested by his maelstrom eyes. His demeanor is none other then genteel. But it is the violent collision of intrigue, and passion, lust, and elegance that stirs in those two wells just under his brow, that overwhelms all her senses. She finds herself unwittingly moving her hands across her body at times in his presence because she knows those eyes are watching. She feels a charge that ignites her tender motor and electrifies the fine hairs across her skin to attention.
She laughs nervously and unzips a dimpled smile before turning her gaze back to the orchestration of traffic below. The street scenes of San Francisco have always held for her the images of a vibrant painting full of achingly moving blue, impaling yellow, and embracing beige.
"I could kiss you now."
He says as he stands up from his chair and assuredly moves towards her. Crossing the distance between the chair and her figure, he presses his shirt against her dress. She feels the pressure of his presence, but not a single sensation of bodies touching. He stops when he feels the fabric rustle against each other. He moves his face towards the slope of her delicate neck and strong shoulders. The ends of her curls kiss the tenderness between his cheek and lips. He plays with his breath upon her neck as he speaks to her.
“My Calliope,”
The air crackles as his lips almost touch her skin. He hovers his lips there letting his breath move across her and through her. Both begin to straddle that invisible border. Like two generals riding their steeds up and down this determined Rubicon. They entertain the emotion, then both pull away letting the ocean of air fill between them. He turns from her with definition. Returning to the table he opens the tablet of paper lain on its surface. He then thumbs several of the pages filled with erratic black ink. She raises her hand to the window frame and basks in the sun while she trains her eyes on the blue Volkswagen beetle moving among the cities canvas.


WALKING ON THE MOON
“Do you hear that?”
“The saxophone?”
He tosses his head back and closes his eyes. “Do you know that song?”
“Its familiar”
Bringing his head down slowly and drawing his eyes “…just an old sweet song…keeps Georgia, on my mind…GEORGIA…whoa Georgia”
“its a beautiful song, but why play the blues on such a beautiful day?”
“You don’t pick the blues, they pick you.”
“Here” Bending her right arm up at the elbow, he places his hand under her elbow and raises her arm gently till it level with her shoulder.
“But everyone is looking.”
“There are only three people on the street. They‘ve got better things to do. You only get a personal live performance once in your life if you‘re lucky. If you’re ever going to dance to this song, this is the time. A recording ends in 3 minutes and 59 seconds, but live notes, go on forever…” He takes her hand softly with his, sliding his fingers up between hers. Her fingers dangle loose next to his. “..Building bridges to memories. All your other memories will be an undercurrent to this one.”
“I’ve got chills.”
“It’ll do that to you.”
“Who do you think he’s playing for?” She says as she looks up towards the window. She spins slowly with him in the tune.
“Us.” “He’s playing for the moment. Whoever wrote this song is gone, it’s the now coming through, this moment is being filtered through him and coming out as melody. It’ll never be played the same way again. Its as unique as the experience. He isn’t just playing a song, he‘s pouring sensations.“