There she was in front of me:
Inga –
The dusky beauty from the
Eastern globe
I used to call her Georgia
The same name song befitting
Her gentle way of a healing
Massage
Whatever.
Surprise.
I had intended to call her
Months ago.
I hung on to her face
Something still left from
That original gut-feeling of a
Matching chemistry.
Indeed.
I was the last patient
Walked to the bus station
Asked Georgia if she’d take
The bus.
‘Usually’. She said. ‘But not
Today’.
Well. Who knows
What could have developed
From our conversation
Still?
Perhaps.spahreP
zoltanzelan
ZJG-POetry’19.