The Loop Affect

Walking toward the morning sunrise

...Red sky at night a sailors delight
Red sky in morning sailors take warning...

Secluded shore covered in a blanket of
Sand and stone…
Seashells and colored sea glass
Tossed playfully to and fro
While footsteps are quietly washed away
No remnants left behind
An emotional tide of highs and lows
A continuous loop

Summer, winter, spring and fall… 

© 2015 TrilbyYates

King And Queen Of The Prom

I can walk 
down the street 
with my wings glistening
in the moonlight
and my skirt hiked 
up to Heaven 
I can carry 
a tune 
and write 
the lyrics 
with my eyes 
glazed over 
from the lack 
of empathy 
One hit wonder
fly by night 
captivator 
feet never 
firmly planted 
on the ground
Surround sound 
and all that 
matters...
We were flying high 
We were invincible 
The king and queen 
of the prom 
neither went to
We were untouchable
Golden sparks flying 
into an endless night

We were flying high 
We were invincible 
The king and queen 
of the prom 
neither went to
We were untouchable
Golden sparks flying 
into an endless night 

© 2014 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      

Slightly Off Key

How well you thought
you knew me;
not so long ago
when I walked
the rocky coast
late at night -
New England rag tag shore line
But, it was in my darkest hours
that you seemed to fade away...
An ambiguous image
blurred and out of view
Like two proverbial battle weary ships,
in the light of a new day
pass and collide unacknowledged;
there is so much I have left to say...
Such an utter shame to be left adrift 
in a turbulent lonely sea,
when the heart has been 
tenderly rescued and repaired
our love song remains on a repetitive replay
uninterrupted yet slightly off key...
And yes, sometimes I wonder
what I truly meant to you;
and more often then not,
what you truly meant to me - or what we could ever do
in peaceful revery 
It was never a matter of pride or ego
as time moves forward for us all -
the continuous ticking of our mortal clock
there are moments that move too fast
and some moments move too slow..

While I reluctantly examined the past, 
fearful of what I would find
fearful of what I may not
and willingly unable to let it all go...

Uninterrupted, yet slightly off key
not knowing what I meant to you
...knowing what you ultimately meant to me...


© 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