Prena Poetry

i am at a concert
leaning my head on your shoulder
right in the middle of the crowd
intoning “I’m going back to 505”
we are almost lost in this euphoric madness,
we have a flight to catch, bills to pay,
and little computer desks awaiting us.
my hunger fades as i put my arms around
and press my body against you.
i almost wish for it to last forever;
we could be drunk for the rest of our lives
and wake up with your arms around my thigh.
no sparks to ever be shamed of.
we need not have to pay bills
but rent a trailer,
swim naked in the morning lake
and eat trout for breakfast
with a bottle of last night’s beer.
we need not have to relive the mistake
your parents made in that house.
we could be rebels.
we could be in love again.
but lover, here we are at a concert
torn tickets and beer cans under our feet.
here i am leaning my head on your shoulder
and loving my own requiem of imagination.
it will always be my pity little imagination
of you and me, running into the sunset.
this is the one last time, one last moment.
because i am not the one
to catch the next flight to Connecticut
or pay the bills to retire in an urban home
with egg shell walls and modern lamps.
i will be on a next train heading north
maybe live by a city or a trailer in the woods.
i will plant flowers
and make candles with my sister.
i will put up some hanging lights,
maybe paint the cafe’s wall
or watch the leaves on the trees.
i will visit my mother’s sleeping place
and leave flowers from my tiny garden.
i know they will tell its not a life worth of it
to do all these little things and die alone.
but i will always live with the idea
that it was a privilege,
for someone like you
to have loved someone like me .