Heartsong
This is where it happened, right on this spot.
You came, riding on your motorcycle, a beat-up Harley Fat Boy, and chanced upon us… a motley crew of musicians playing our beat-up instruments. One of the men offered you a beer and you accepted, slouched against your bike and listened to us play. I was looking at you even before you saw me. I saw that you had very old eyes… so old like it’s seen things beyond your years… so old it seemed not of this world.
After a while, you straightened up and from a black leather case, took out a saxophone. You asked if you could join our repertoire and sat down. Somebody started humming a tune and you picked it up. All around was silence, even the waves settled down to quiet ripples, even the wind died to a whisper.
There was just you and your music… soulful, caressing, intense. It went beyond the tune from which you picked it up and made it your very own, like nothing we’ve ever heard, right there… as you played. It romanced our senses and held us all captive. It spoke to us of old pains, and lost dreams, of a grain of hope. It reminded us of years passed… and promised us a thousand tomorrows.
You were more than merely an august musician. It was as if we couldn’t tell where the sax ended and where you began…It was as if you were one… you breathing life into it, and the sax telling us tales from your heart, from your soul.
Just then, the smooth music we were listening to sounded warped, and it stopped... and my eyes flew open. You’ve turned your head to the sea, away from us, and with the light from the moon and the stars, I saw the glistening tears fall.
The rest of the crew have straightened up and, deciding to call it a night, found a spot on the beach to retire, some alone, some in pairs. I stayed. I’m not sure what it was that’s come over me. My legs seemed to pin me down… sitting in silence, watching you cry.
You must have felt my presence for you turned your head decisively in my direction and looked straight into my eyes. They held no questions and offered no answers… just an openness that seemed to suck me in. With that look, I felt everything I needed to know… all the things you’ve seen, all the things you’ve been through… all the pains, all the losses, all the dreams.
I stood up taking your hand in mine, and led you further into the beach. Where the sand was cool and almost wet, we lay down side by side… our hands held together, our skins touching, our eyes locked in a gaze… and time stood still.
And we made love… again, and again, and again.
When I woke up, I found you dressed and slouching against your bike, smoking a cigarette. When you saw me stir, you smiled and helped me up, catching me in a tight embrace, burying your face to my neck. Then you kissed me… once on the forehead, once on each cheek, and once on the lips.
And you were gone… the first and last I ever saw of you.
This is where it happened, and here I am, retracing my steps, living the moment. I have no misgivings… just a beautiful memory. And I have no intention of finding you, not at all. I just wanted to be in your space once again… in our space. I’ve made my peace with it. What I thought was a song was, after all, just a single note.
I do not even know your name.
