San Antonio 

Looking out of a sixth floor hotel window

At midday, alone

I see a large face, somewhat distorted, in a window reflection

Across asphalt and tree islands

Wishing it resembled a woman's kind face, but it doesn't.

Separated now after thirty-five years of marriage

Will I ever have the love of a woman again?

There is one I love who feels only friendship for me.

There is one who loves me but I feel only friendship for her.

There is one I met in San Antonio who has never been married,

A professional woman whom I could love, but I doubt she will feel the same about me.

I'm about as loving as they come,

I want to hug and to hold, to love and be loved.

To lay together and talk away the night in time suspended

Someone who still believes in romance

Someone who has not been jaded by the years or current events

A woman I can celebrate and cherish and love deeply.

That evening, I was sitting alone in the hotel lobby, sipping Cabernet, reading poetry

A surprisingly attractive woman sat right next to me, her thigh touching my thigh.

I didn't mind.  She said her name was Cat and asked if I was lonely.

I told her my name was Dave and that I was lonely.

Just then, the manager intruded and told Cat, "May I have a word with you?"

He came back later and apologized.

No apology needed, we were just getting started, talking.

I am afraid of being alone, of diminishing alone, of dying alone.

I am afraid.

David Oesper