Brief Encounter

She slid into the corner of my eye as she entered the door.

Sheathed in a black dress a shade too endearingly young for her
and carefully tangled blonde curls.

It was the voice as she asked for change for cigarettes that hooked me.

A voice that has haunted my fantasies since adolescence,
the husky siren sound that struck some masculine chord deep inside me.

I could no more keep my head from turning than levitate.

Dressed so fine, with her discrete jewelry,
she must have come from the posh party in the Hotel across the road,

but it was her eyes that captured me
and the instant mutual recognition of significance.

It was one of those clichéd timeless moments,
luminescent with lost pasts or immanent futures.

Her mobile rang.

She answered, listened and accepted her change from the barmaid
without taking her eyes from mine.

Then she said “On my way”
and with one last rueful smile she turned and was gone.