In an eight-hour drive
or a one-hour flight
You could be herein my arms
if you chose.
But you chose her,
your country girl.
Are you with her now?
I don’t really want to know
and anyway
your plans had already been made
so what is a few days spent with me
compared to the history you have with her?
It’s only
what I choose to make it.
Enough Reality to prelude Fantasy;
Enough Fantasy to get through Reality.
An eight-hour drive
or a one-hour flight
and safer with this distance,
that keeps it pure, untainted,
almost innocent —
like you.
Not enough time to feel bitterness or resentment
Never to yell out in words of anger
I’d probably later
regret. Never to say I’m sorry
Yet long enough to pleasure in your naïveté
Although not enough hours
or reality
for wounds I could easily
unthinkingly cause.
Not long enough to feel trapped
and no time to say “I love you.”
I vowed I’d never again look for in a man
something I was lacking
like culture or net worth
But here I am
wanting the innocence I’ve never been,
wanting you.
© Sabrina Santa Clara, 1989