Hudson Line Blows

So we go out to this bar
Saturday night sure thing
Down on the west side 
Of the infamous Hudson River
Blonde bombshell with crew
and dark haired mystery woman 
Tapan Zee to the north 
GWB to the south 
Across the river a whistle 
On the Hudson Line blows smoke 
While flying by everyone waves 
As if they are floating on liquid gold 
And I'm feeling lost 
In my old haunting ground
Like I've never been here before 
A stranger in familiar surroundings 
Out of my comfort zone 
Out of my element
A fish out of water
Square peg 
...in a round hole
Oblio  
And it's not a far stretch 
Of the imagination 
Culture shock and reminiscing 
Don't always go hand in hand 
Sipping wine through a straw
Cheap fragrant masculine cologne
Fills the air loud bass beat roll
Burns my senses to the core
Vinny and Frankie commonality 
Thick in the middle as age creeps up 
- but no one seems to notices 
By the time last call fades 
Off into the mist
I don't know where I belong any more 
Stepping out on all sides
Everything feels heavy handed 
Tossing snake eyes coming up double 
Maybe it's a fine time 
To play the hand that has been dealt 
And fade off into the horizon 
On a fast sailing vessel 
...Hells Gate with out warning

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Dream On Dream On

Dream on 
Dream on and on
He says 
Only 27 questions 
To answer
And then you
Will know
....how to fall in love
Sitting in a cozy bar 
Some place in Brooklyn 
The candle light softens 
The harsher lines 
That have grown
Across the brow
And marionette lines 
That make a smile 
More of an conscious effort 
Than the natural way 
Your lips once parted
Corners turned up
Cherub's bow kissable
As the years dance on 
Dance on and on
The answers reveal 
More than his 
Heart's intentions
And yours races 
Out of insecurity 
Not for lack of lust
Or passion
But more out of 
A sense of caution
...these days 
To set the fire slowly
Rather than burn in a blaze 
Of no regrets and short felt glory
Dream on
Dream on and on 
He says 
Only 26 questions 
Left to answer
And then you
Will know
....how to fall in love 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

Dear Bartender

Pen to paper can be intimidating - old school writing feels awkward when it has been years since the last time I actually put...pen to paper. But on this trip no laptop, no word processing devices - didn't think to bring anything along to write with...front desk, sweet faced young man - red curly hair and blue eyes accommodates all requests made by the patrons staying at the 1661 Inn; even if that means some improvising. Carefully he tares out several sheets of paper from his note book and hands me a pen apologetically - as if he thinks it isn't good enough - there is just enough of a pause and hesitation in his gesture, a dead give away; but it is perfect for what I need. My head is filling up and overflowing with words and it's time to write or I will forget - which is never a good option for me - I don't seem to do well with regret...all those pearls of wisdom, jewels of thought so perfectly strung together, lost...gone forever! Tragic I think, as I step outside into the old world of Block Island. 

It is an oceanic-transformation that I can feel in the pit of my stomach - brave soul they say, going away all by your self... 

Out and about on the island, hands of the grandfather clock tick tock - 6:00PM; I walk down Spring Street to the Hotel Manisses for a drink - standing behind the bar is a July summer sun tanned handsome man talking to all the guests as if he has known them for years. Bartender lingo pro is quick, witty and charming; he chats comfortably - earning every dollar that is being rung up quicker then a blink in a turn of the century ornate quasi cash register. He looks at me, smiles and asks - what's your pleasure beautiful lady? Clearing my throat - a vodka tonic with a twist of lime please. The bartender asks...any particular Vodka? My reply clumsy, but attempting to act as if in the know...Tito's please, if you have it? He smiles and winks; continues to chat up the other customers - they are affectionately letting him know how thrilled they are that he decided to return to the Manisses for another season -  a multitasking Svengali!

My plan for the evening is to have a drink outside on the patio where I wont appear so obviously solo on the most romantic island in New England - but, if I have learned anything in this life, plans can change as quickly as the wind...

The bartender places a coaster and my Tito and tonic with a fresh slice of lime on the bar...he asks if I would hang around for a while - the drink is on him. Again the smile - slightly blushing I agree and thank him. He waits and watches as I take a sip...looking up from my glass into his eyes - a striking sea blue color - I can see a glimmer of approval and I smile back at him - with the straw still between my lips. And I wonder, does one, drink a "Tito" and tonic with a fresh slice of lime through a straw or sip from the glass...

By the second drink we are talking with more openness, as if we have also known each other for years; about inconsequential things, silly light things - music, songs - good music and bad music - is there any future in music, film. The Yankees and the Red Socks - World Cup, America's Cup - and how to steam the best lobster in the entire world. The conversation shifts back and forth, from day to day interests cautiously to personal - what do you do, what are your dreams, married, kids, in a relationship, out of one - how long. 

Some people enter the bar dressed for dinner or more casual, just stop by for a quick drink after a long day on the beach or out sailing around the island. The walls begin to drift away and vanish. Comfort and ease replace my sense of being alone on my visit and sitting in a bar full of couples and - yes, flirting with, not just a bartender, but "the" most beloved  bartender on Block island.

The conversation flows like a fine wine - how cliche, but sometimes the best or worst cliches work for a reason...they fit like a fine pair of haute couture gloves. 

We chat and laugh. He asks what my plans are for the night - I'm going to finish my drink and walk back to the inn and write. He leans in and asks if I will wait for him to finish up and maybe we can walk together. Maybe he can buy me another drink at a local slow dancing dimly lit beach bar in the Old Harbor. And maybe afterward he can talk me into going back to his place. 

Feeling verbally uninhibited now - you just want me to sleep with you! I jokingly gasp. He laughs and with a slight nod he says -  you got me darlin, confirmation of ulterior motives, I confess. Is that really what you think? An intense serious look crosses his face, strangely I'm drawn to him because of it. There is an air of honesty and sincerity in his expression and eyes.

Not sure what to think. Maybe I'm completely delusional in thinking anything; that this person has any interest in sleeping with me - and now I'm feeling a little silly. A little - but not completely embarrassed; a bit off guard maybe and slightly vulnerable.

He can sense my discomfort and says in his best Cary Grant - it is a perfect night for a walk darling...come on beautiful think about it. 

You my new friend can make one hell of a great "Tito" and tonic with a slice of fresh lime, but can not give me what I want or need - And, not an afterthought, but I don't just sleep with every pretty face I meet when vacationing alone in paradise...he smiles again and says, how do you know I can't give you what you want or need? What do you want? Do you know what you need? A little music, a slow dance, the sounds of the ocean...candle light...we all need that don't we?

Ah yes my dear bartender, sweet lovely bartender - handsome and most likely too young for me in the real world bartender...are you sure you want to hear this? Are you sure you are ready and can handle what I will say? I've had a few, wonderfully made I might add, drinks with you and the gift of gab has not been lost on either of us. 

Straight up honest shooter, he replies - I like that. 

Ok handsome, get ready...

I want...
...someone to take my hands hold them tenderly and kiss them, 
look into my eyes and know it is enough. 
I want...
... someone to kiss my lips and take my breath away,
look into my eyes and know it is enough. 
I want... 
...someone to say all the words that will fill both our hearts and ring true, perfect tone, not hollow or off key - 
look into my eyes and know it is enough. 
I want and need ...
...a friend, a lover that can feel, see and accept all of my history, my imperfections without judgement,
look into my eyes and know that it is enough. 
I want and need...
... a friend a lover that knows in his core being that when he looks into my eyes the love between us is unconditional and reciprocated and that it is enough.

How's that for starters?

Well, he says quietly, taking my hands and holding them in his - they feel warm and soft - not weak. He looks at me closely and brings my hands to his lips...he kisses them - he closes his eyes for a moment...and then looks at me again - he whispers, where have you been all of my life beautiful? 

I know it's a cliche but it fit like a fine pair of haute couture gloves...

© 2014 TrilbyYates      

Mr. Who Knows Who

All that crazy anticipation 
build up and worry 
as if yesterday 
was a blank page 
And all the steps taken 
have somehow 
been washed away 
like footsteps in the sand - how cliche! 
I remember laughing 
about all those old sayings 
one night during a brief love affair
he filled my glass of wine up 
for the 3rd time 
smiling with such intent
saying, "Man, who are they trying to kid!
...rather have loved and lost 
than to have never loved at all - 
or, something like, if you set it free 
and it doesn't come back 
it was never yours to begin with..." 
Man what a kick
Man what a time 
for jokes and one liners
from men like Henny Youngman,
"I've been in love with the same woman 
for forty-one years 
if my wife finds out she'll kill me..."
The corners of my mouth 
turn up and I laugh -
so politically incorrect...yea no kidding man!
Even between all the laughter 
and long talks - we faded 
off in different directions 
but that wasn't a news flash
we both knew from day one 
nothing was going to come 
of what ever this was or wasn't 
just passing time 
drinking wine 
making love and laughing - 
sometimes we would
slow dance in the living room,
...candles flickering 
sexy shadows on the walls...
to some off the grid 
blues tune...
At the time everything was perfection 
in its own light - 
but, it was those long drives home 
late at night 
that set me free 
And now...I find myself 
walking to a bar in Brooklyn 
to meet Mr. Who Knows Who 
and for just a moment 
there is this rush 
the feeling of soft warm hands
occasionally touching mine -
We laugh and talk
as he fills up my glass 
of wine 
for the 3rd time...


© 2014 TrilbyYates  

...just hanging around hat in hand daze, wind blows a chill to the bone with a cup of java just waiting to be sipped ever so slowly...warmth seeps through the palms of my hands.

Black and white, color Kodachrome sugar coated thoughts pop in and out of the 3rd eye of the mind just roll on and on with complete random and transcendental imagery. Example:...tucked away in a dark shadowy corner - a crackling muted long drawn out hissing sound seeps from under not so green wet wood, amber's glowing with an intense hot white fiery burn - golden sparks flying from a fireplace that once held the heart and kept the soul pure until the slate cracked - a turning point and the end of that particular novella. Life shifts and plan B is set in motion.

Bouncing back and forth from one memory to the next, weaving a tapestry of tales spun together with word and song - precious detail and no lack for luster - One late fall evening sitting in a dimly lit French bar in a sweet part of the city, staircase wrapped up into the ceiling getting lost in the night sky, with twinkling starlight and distant clouds...couldn't help but notice how blue your eyes were...leaning in several times, a touch of the hand, head tilted back with laughter pouring from lips as wine is savored, stories told and the slight hesitation confirmed an attraction...you hide under your hat and I take cover between the lines - the written word is a protective cloak and you instinctively keep the beat...one never knows what the future may hold...a surprise party we've all been invited to, like it or not...

(transcendental [ˌtrænsɛnˈdɛntəl]
1. transcendent, superior, or surpassing
2. (Philosophy) (in the philosophy of Kant)
a. (of a judgment or logical deduction) being both synthetic and a priori
b. of or relating to knowledge of the presuppositions of thought
3. (Philosophy) Philosophy beyond our experience of phenomena, although not beyond potential knowledge
4. (Christian Religious Writings / Theology) Theol surpassing the natural plane of reality or knowledge; supernatural or mystical

© 2010 Trilby Yates