The Women Who Have My Heart

They are scattered around all over

When I bump into them

I remember worlds that were set in motion

Moving within me still

But now alone, I had forgotten

Who helped create them

Until I briefly see their faces

Or stop to chat awhile

I never intended strongly enough

Or always wanted their freedom, first

These women that I never began with

Yet I cannot deny the sorrow

That wells up like liquid nitrogen

Love is something I recall

In the recollection always warmer

Warmer in my dreams

Than ever it could be for real

hopeful polyromantic #1

The other day I was waiting outside a community centre before hosting a meeting about climate breakdown, and into my celibate life, that is to say across my line of vision, appeared one of the most strikingly attractive women I have ever seen. She reclined on a sturdy rustic bench on the finely cropped grass, in just such a position that the sun shone full on her. I walked up to her and handed her one of my cards -promoting the activism I am involved with. I’m glad she asked ‘what is it?’ as I shyly handed it to her. I’m glad I had a chance to strike up a conversation and observe her gorgeous face in animation. She said carefully, no, she didn’t know anything about climate breakdown but, she thought she should know a little more. This pleased me. I explained the danger in terms related to my worry for my three year-old niece i.e. for her future. The reclining sensation informed me she was just about to see her niece, as it happened.

Her face was full of piercings -very rarely have I seen such piercings against skin so black. Yet the metal was subtle for all its ubiquity about her features, and the effect was beautiful. I invited this young woman (I guessed her to be anywhere from 17 to 22) into the meeting I was about to hold, but she couldn’t make it. She said she might come on another Monday. So next Monday, when the group is actually to meet somewhere else, I have made the meeting time later, so I can be at the original meeting place earlier on, waiting for this stunning woman to appear again.

The way things seem to go with me, I probably won’t meet her again, even though she has my number on the back of a card. But that’s okay. I don’t need to attach to her. She may already be attached to someone else in any case. I think it was on the same evening back at home, that I celebrated this chance meeting with dazzle and cool vivaciousness by writing a song for her. Well, it was just a few chords and a bass-line, a jazzy sequence as is my wont.

So my delight did not turn into bitterness. Instead it was exorcised into my fingers and into melody and groove -melody and groove all hers. I now have another tune, or the beginnings of one, to add to the other two about women I briefly met -one of them so gorgeous and full of Spirit as to change my mind about not wanting to have children. I will build up a whole catalogue of songs, songs full of sexy groove, soulful melody and chords struck deep with me. These women are all better free of me anyway -probably better free of anyone. I wish them all the glory in the universe.