poetry

Harvest of Gems

The autumn sun warmed our backs as we sat down on a bench near the Hrad. Summer's arms were wrapped around me. "It's so much like a drug, this thing, this passion." she warned. "I've been looking for a spiritual man for quite some time," Summer further declared. "You don't mind that I'm eighteen?" she cautiously probed. "No!" I decisively exclaimed, hoping to quell her doubts. "You know, Jim Morrison was such a lousy poet," Summer muttered. "I mean he didn't know anything about love." I sat quietly, fully content with the moment. The tourist hordes trampled past us. "More peacocks," Summer announced, alluding to our voyeur friend from Konopiste. "Look at them. They're afraid something terrible might happen." What terrible thing could possibly happen on a day like this? I wondered to myself. Day turned into night, Summer and I had inspected the underground crypts inside St. Vitus cathedral. The rooms were dank and musty. This was our dense little home. Havel was nowhere to be seen. He was probably too busy cleaning up all the psychic sludge left by the Commies and the Nazis "You know, it's like Prague's got some kind of mono," Summer quietly revealed. "It's gonna take awhile for this place to heal." She was right. The Brown and Red demons had copulated and violated this beautiful and stagnant city. The vortex was now open again, and Summer and I were like orphans in the storm. We embraced and kissed quietly on Kampa island. Summer had let go of all her inhibitions. Her tight embrace signaled to me her anxiety and excitement. Our union was forever. We both knew this now. The separation that was upon us was just that, a physical separation. Our hearts and minds would always be together regardless of space and time. We had been tested in Prague and more tests were coming. This was what marriage was all about. Summer and I were pioneering something very old, and something very new.

"Never forget me," Summer quietly whispered into my freezing ear. The loud din of traffic distracted me and enveloped us. This was IT. The mysterious IT of saints and mystics. Our tongues caressed softly and quietly in the dark. Summer was in love. This extraordinary little angel who had mastered Japanese and German at an early age and was now plowing through Finnegan's Wake was now most certainly in love. We returned to the apartment. I was rubbing Summer's ice cold feet, when her boyfriend barged back in. I packed and left for the train station.

I was catching the vortex train to Poland and beyond. I was on a mission. I nestled back into my seat inside the pitch darkness. I could see in my mind's eye Summer kissing me one last time at the door of her apartment. The one she paid the rent for. Her boyfriend was broke. The train groaned and heaved its way towards a seemingly and completely unknown destination. That's when I felt her. Summer was saying one last good-bye. Her face appeared suddenly in the compartment. It smiled and grew larger and larger. Yeah, Summer had her ways and she was determined to show them to me. I felt a gentle warmth filling me and the entire train compartment. Summer's boyfriend had taken me to the train station and declared: "If she has sex with anyone, I'LL LEAVE HER!" I pressed my face against the cold glass of the train window and began to cry.

LEXICON

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