deepundergroundpoetry.com
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"Come," she tells me softly, extending her hand towards me, "You will enjoy it." I bet I will--she is absolutely lovely--not that that matters much but it is hard not to notice. I look into her face, trying to glean any sign of dishonesty. I cannot read her. Maybe I don't want to. Perhaps I want to be lead--let my defenses down for a moment. Giving her what she is asking for would be easy as I look into her seemingly innocent eyes--beautiful eyes, bright and clear, and a color I am not sure is real. She has no understanding of the battle that rages inside me--they never do.
I continue to watch her face as I hesitantly extend my hand towards hers. Her expression changes slightly--a nearly imperceptible eyebrow raise, a minute lift to the corner of her lips and a minuscule tilt of her head--if I had not been watching her so intently I might not have seen it. Even with her facial change, I cannot tell if she is pleased with my decision. Hadn't I just declined her proposition, twice?
"Not today, honey," I had replied brusquely the first time, barely glancing in her direction as I made to hurry past. The almost inaudible sigh of relief and the dejected drop of her shoulders had made me stop. The conflicting data had intrigued me. Instantly, she was a puzzle to solve. As I turned back towards her, she asked again and I heard the entire invitation. Her voice had an enchanting lilt, almost musical, but the intonation was wrong. I stared at her mouth, watching her lips, trying to understand how she was producing desire and dismissal at the same time in her proposal. I shook my head no-- No I didn't think accepting her offer would be a good idea but I made no move to walk away.
My hand touches hers just at the fingertips and I notice how cool her skin is--soft too--the softness seems out of place somehow. Her fingers curl, enclosing mine within and offer an encouraging squeeze. Fascinated by the contrast, I step forward closing the distance between us. My eyes haven't left her face. She is smiling reassuringly but in her eyes I think I see fear. Is it really there or am I imagining it? I cannot tell. I have seen fear too often these days and maybe I assume it's everywhere.
She gestures, tilting her head, motioning to the right. Trying to understand her meaning I pull my eyes from her face. Over her shoulder beyond us, looking across the crowded plaza, I see an entrance into an alleyway. I figured as much. Her grip tightens around my hand and she begins to move, guiding me, and at first I follow easily down the few steps into the marketplace area. She is leading me towards our destination straight through the busiest quarter. Instantly I wonder why she was soliciting so far from the accommodations. There were plenty of people here closer to choose from.
As we progress through the the freakish bazaar the space constricts, packed with many bodies--filthy bodies--they seem to be everywhere crowding in on us. Makeshift stalls and haphazard displays of odd items add to the chaos. The sound, jumbled and loud, coming from everywhere, confuses me. My breathing changes as I feel a sense of panic rise up in my throat. I want to yank my hand from hers and immediately leave this confining area. I no longer have any tolerance for congested spaces. She refuses to release her grasp on me, though maybe she senses my anxiety because she begins to hastily push through the people, not caring that they turn and glower at her. For a brief second I believe that she is panicking just as I am, but then we are through the worst of it and the space opens up again.
I take a deep breath trying to clear my nasal passages of the foul stench of rancid bodies. I briefly look back at the scourge of clustered denizens who don't realize their existence is meaningless--she continues to pull me forward.
I continue to watch her face as I hesitantly extend my hand towards hers. Her expression changes slightly--a nearly imperceptible eyebrow raise, a minute lift to the corner of her lips and a minuscule tilt of her head--if I had not been watching her so intently I might not have seen it. Even with her facial change, I cannot tell if she is pleased with my decision. Hadn't I just declined her proposition, twice?
"Not today, honey," I had replied brusquely the first time, barely glancing in her direction as I made to hurry past. The almost inaudible sigh of relief and the dejected drop of her shoulders had made me stop. The conflicting data had intrigued me. Instantly, she was a puzzle to solve. As I turned back towards her, she asked again and I heard the entire invitation. Her voice had an enchanting lilt, almost musical, but the intonation was wrong. I stared at her mouth, watching her lips, trying to understand how she was producing desire and dismissal at the same time in her proposal. I shook my head no-- No I didn't think accepting her offer would be a good idea but I made no move to walk away.
My hand touches hers just at the fingertips and I notice how cool her skin is--soft too--the softness seems out of place somehow. Her fingers curl, enclosing mine within and offer an encouraging squeeze. Fascinated by the contrast, I step forward closing the distance between us. My eyes haven't left her face. She is smiling reassuringly but in her eyes I think I see fear. Is it really there or am I imagining it? I cannot tell. I have seen fear too often these days and maybe I assume it's everywhere.
She gestures, tilting her head, motioning to the right. Trying to understand her meaning I pull my eyes from her face. Over her shoulder beyond us, looking across the crowded plaza, I see an entrance into an alleyway. I figured as much. Her grip tightens around my hand and she begins to move, guiding me, and at first I follow easily down the few steps into the marketplace area. She is leading me towards our destination straight through the busiest quarter. Instantly I wonder why she was soliciting so far from the accommodations. There were plenty of people here closer to choose from.
As we progress through the the freakish bazaar the space constricts, packed with many bodies--filthy bodies--they seem to be everywhere crowding in on us. Makeshift stalls and haphazard displays of odd items add to the chaos. The sound, jumbled and loud, coming from everywhere, confuses me. My breathing changes as I feel a sense of panic rise up in my throat. I want to yank my hand from hers and immediately leave this confining area. I no longer have any tolerance for congested spaces. She refuses to release her grasp on me, though maybe she senses my anxiety because she begins to hastily push through the people, not caring that they turn and glower at her. For a brief second I believe that she is panicking just as I am, but then we are through the worst of it and the space opens up again.
I take a deep breath trying to clear my nasal passages of the foul stench of rancid bodies. I briefly look back at the scourge of clustered denizens who don't realize their existence is meaningless--she continues to pull me forward.
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