The Pedantic

A date, but not a date. There is risk in everything we do, especially for the simple chance to be with someone.

1

Her heels, they click

Against the cold tiles in the warmth

Of the smiles and laughter of old friends

And loved ones and lovers,

Above the clicking of the knives and forks

Against the ceramic of the fine, fine china.

They click and echo in a sound so simple

That I adore as much as Chopin calmly in the background;

As much as Miles Davis, wildly, at my center stage.

I’m not fully sure why that is;

The heft of the moment moves me, perhaps "

Thoughts that encompass me that I attempt to regulate.

Is there an “us?”  Or is this just “she and I”

In a room of blissful, lowly lit expressions

Partaking in white wine and conversation.

Or is it too early in the snow of winter

To speculate on the spring’s rain?

 

2

There was a thing I let go of,

A thing I chose to turn loose,

Which was beautiful in its own right,

But it wasn't the snapping of those heels

In this place I barely know.

And it wasn't “us” " or what I think “us” could be,

What I want “us” to mean, to become.

So I focus too much on all of this

And find myself mesmerized by something

As simple, as pedantic

As shoes against the tile of a floor.

 

3

But they are her Kate Spades

And she is with me

And we are “us” " in this moment, at least,

And that thought makes my chest swell.

That thought gives aching muscles strength,

Gives a tired mind focus.

But what I've made her to be,

Sometimes, I worry I’m building a failed monument,

A destined ruin of an avoidable demise

Because I can’t calm my nerves.

And she mentions a thought, in that light,

That softly hits her skin and smoothly illuminates her smile,

About insecurities and being unsure in life.

Before I can take the words back

And display that I’m not the Lion of coolness

I purport in my devilish grins and quirky quips

They come spilling out of me.

4

“I don’t see everything others see in me.

“Sometimes, I don’t see why a woman

As great as you would want to be with me.”

And in that instant I can hear

The music going dead

And the knives and forks slow their tapping

And the laughter becoming more and more faint.

“You shouldn't be telling me this.”

Her reply, with a gentle smirk.

And I back my way out of it: 

Everyone has their problems,

Their inconsistencies, their shame, their sadness.

It’s what we do to overcome them, I say,

That is of importance; that’s what defines us.

We let the moment pass; I've had too much chardonnay

And likely too much conversation.

The sounds pick up again as we leave.

The pace of the room returns to normal.

She grins as she passes me

To lead the way out.

The entire time I listen for it,

But I no longer hear her heels clicking.

And I realize, quickly,

That it is a good thing.

Author's Note

Working title, may keep it

Reviews

[Souladareatease]

Great write!!!
very intriguing tale woven within emotion!!!
the flow is spot on, to the ease of attention1!!