Hurricane Rendezvous

So, October 28th. The day before it had arrived.
Pumpkin leaflets, summer’s leaving, Volkswagen sedan on a drive.
Gusts of season, flannels, and walks through 10 p.m. suburbia nights.
Blasts of orange harvest, olfactory senses concise.
Lakeside and Beverly Creek. Lake Nelson just over in reach.
The crossover between the Fur Elise and berry stems in the streets.
The very first time we ever had kissed
And unlocked sundrops. Whirlwind storms that soon would commence
To convince ourselves that this wasn’t pretend.
October 29th, 2012, we watched on the news how much Sandy had caused
Wondering if our love was somehow the cause of it all.
Visiting Coach. Six-hour dividend coast.
Whiskey and hope. Woodford Reserve on the Millbury slopes.
Three thousand miles. A year later. Psychiatrists, and displacement was born.
The forecast was sun, sun, sun, roses without thorns on the stem.
Feet dangling off the gondola lifts. Balm on your wrist to soothe the sore on your lips.
A feeling of emptiness with her finger not adorned with a gem.
Telling me time heals all, something you accustomed me to
And I believed you because your wristwatch covered your wounds
Blood drunk, hungry for more, hungry for passion
That gets robbed from me, the moment our hands clench
I was embarrassed. Ads on the walls about marriage
False interpretations of love, made the gray areas bland
Endless carousel wagon, help reveal this fairytale land.
October 22nd, 2015, three years after it happened
I’ll never forget. I visited you after two years from the norm
Thinking it was calm, but it was just the eye of the storm
We walked home from the bar, silence spoke a desolate rage
Makeshift disarray. Maroon merlot in a vase
She undressed before walking in the room as to say
She had it with life, and its incessant display
Of obsessions for sex and temporary embrace
Of this modern day culture of sultry distaste
Bra clinging off her shoulders, so I just let the metaphor hang.
Mama let out a cry and said it wasn’t the same.
So I touched her lips with mine and understood what she claimed.
Inebriated, insane. On your breath, Cabernet.
Full-bodied, at the tavern, they knew you loved it that way.
Stroking your hair, I muttered, “I know, it’s okay.”
Knowing it wasn’t, and knowing we’ve changed.
We were both naked and touching, but felt a silk layer in haste.
And it sucks that I had nothing better to say.
Grey Goose swallowing pain.
These scars don’t define you; these scars are displays.
To let the next person know you made it out, not stronger, but strange.
Head in my chest, hair in my mouth, a hole in my brain.
Nestled in the crevices where the tension exclaimed.
A lie is just a story where it’s ruined by the truth in mistake.
Karen O and the kids on the record replays.
Squeezed each other’s hands, a two-person submission.
Inside of delusion, to sobbing in fetal position.
Relationships never play out as we have them envisioned.
It’s true what they say that life is a bitch…es.
Keeping the ring box in my pocket might’ve been indecision.
The next day, on the plane, she said to send her a text.
A thousand-kilometer stretch, it’s something we wanted in jest.
When I landed, she asked me if we could ever work out the distance.
Feeling the neglect in between the pause in her sentence.
As the autumn air in Newark Port tore through my throat.
Love rendezvous became my déjà vu, a hurricane I had to bear on my own.

Published by Cristian Leonardo Gajardo

Welcome to Cristian’s Cafe, a website where I showcase my various forms of expression and happiness. Here you can find poetry, podcasts, personal blogging, research articles, open mic, comedy, and art. Whether you are looking for inspiration, entertainment, or information, you will find something that suits your taste and mood. Enjoy browsing through my content and feel free to leave your comments and feedback. Please note that the Wi-Fi connection may be slow or unstable at times, so please be patient and look at the art instead. Thank you for visiting Cristian’s Cafe

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