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.