Poetry

A Random Bar in Holland

I met him in a random bar in Holland–
Bartender winking at me–
As my head nods to the techno beat–
And my eyes adjust to the spinning room–
When will I know what is enough?

I take a chance as our eyes fatefully meet–

Energy is thick in the mist of perspiration and desperation of the youth–
And the forever aging–
Who never know the right kinds of moves

or the ever-changing language of the misunderstood–

His hair was blonde and his eyes were green of the Irish moors and I knew as we made eye contact that the night would be lost in fickle rhythm and blues of time–

and to the rhythm and blues of his lithe, lingering tongue–

Where did my pale prince go–

in the thickest of greens and gloomiest of woods–
Who will I be as I reemerge–
A young woman with courage and lust for adventure–

As she slays dragons and flirts with the Highest of Fae–
Her name is lost in the scrolls of time–
Where mortals were coveted–
For their tendencies and faults–
Instead of mocked for their ignorance–

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