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The Cunning Linguist
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For every beautiful woman that you see somewhere, somewhere there's a man who's tired of looking at her.

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Halfway Across The Sky {A Short Story Poem}

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romance

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This is my first attempt at writing something of a love story. Dedicated to the memory of Summer 1992.

July 2017-Livingston, NJ

Driving South Orange Avenue was cool this time of day, just left the mall of Livingston; I feel some kind of way, in seeing Isabella Mendez; Lord it's meant to be, I haven't seen her face in 'bout a quarter century.

I loved her from the moment that she first walked into class, my mind starts drifting backward through the years across the past, that high school day is seemingly a million steps away, but I can see it clear across a million yesterdays....

September 1992-Newark, NJ

"Welcome to your Senior year," Ms. Edwards said and frowned, "If you have plans for college now's the time to settle down." A sudden entrance sparked a daydream; how I'd hold her tight, her beauty was like nothing I had seen in my whole life.

"This is Isabella Mendez," Edwards introduced, the class had a collective look that said they disapproved, except for me 'cause fireworks shot off and shook enough, of valving in my heart to know I had the look of love. J

July 2017-South Orange, NJ

Pandang's was an eatery she'd heard you had to try, the ultimate cuisine for when you felt you had to Thai, but Isabella's mind was not on noodles, beans, and rice, he'd texted that he was on his way; the who she'd seen as why,

she hadn't loved since high school; everything was different then, God gave me such a gift, she thought. A warm and giving friend, that turned to something people spend their whole life trying to find, then Isabella traveled back in time inside her mind.

October 1992-Newark, NJ

The first thing that I noticed as I stared and gazed his eyes, was something so unique inside a pair of hazel eyes, he'd watched me for a month without a word; I'd say he's shy, so one day in the library I walk up and say "Hi."

That's when those hazel green eyes caught me off my normal guard, their thunder and their lightning hit me with the force of God, "My name is Isabella." I announced while soaked with rain, his face a total blank but then he smiled and spoke his name.

Our conversation flowed like water from a stream that's cold, we learned a lot about each other; shared our dreams and goals, that stretched beyond the walls of Newark with truth so suitable, he looked into my eyes and told me, "You're so beautiful."

I blushed 'cause that's the first time I'd been called that word before, but something told me that this boy would somehow serve me more, of smile inducing compliments and always on a whim, I knew it from the time I spoke; my heart belonged to him.

July 2017-Livingston, NJ

Music's always been the thing to clear my jumbled thoughts, just hanging on a melody before I tumble off, and as the winding pavement of the avenue goes by, a song comes onto LITE-FM that fast and who knows why.

As Kenny Loggins sings 'bout meeting halfway 'cross the sky, a memory of Isabella streaks across the mind, the library had been our place for talk and holding hands, but on this day it seems that talk was not her only plan.

November 1992-Newark, NJ

Since that day last month when she had boldly stepped to me, I thought of Isabella as my holy destiny, her folks were very strict so talking on the phone was out, the days passed and with her I felt as though my soul was out.

On this day we sat talking 'bout the day of giving thanks, just one more week to go before the taste of ribs and flanks, of turkey graced my palate; Jesus Christ I loved to dine, when out of nowhere Isabella's hand was touching mine.

Her stroking on my inner palm destroyed all inner calm, in those last row of shelves is where she took me in her arms, as I took her in mine; we both were locked in eye to eye, the first kiss from her lips; I swear I thought that I would die.

Our mouths continued tango dancing with no pause for breath, until my right hand reached up and instinctly palmed her breast, which brought things to a halt; I'm talking good brakes on a ship, it had me quite titanic from the good taste of her lips.

"I'm sorry," Isabella said; her eyes awash in tears, "I want to give you my virginity just not in here." Titanic went down once again if that should make it clear, I smiled as I replied, "Good, 'cause I wouldn't take it here."

Her teardrops dried up instantly before she took the arm, that now has tattoos on it; then she whispered soft, "The prom." I nodded to her once and then we went back in the seats, I chuckled as my army's troops were sent back in defeat.

July 2017-South Orange, NJ

"He'll be here in a moment!" Isabella squealed with glee, her face then burst with blushing like a bladder filled with pee, she read the four word text again; 'Just five minutes away', which may as well be seven hours; how 'bout any day?

Her parents left Newark that December and so went the prom, she couldn't even write him so those hazel glints were gone, from her forever (so she thought) until some time ago, a friend request was sent from him that set her mind aglow.

Accepting it (of course); they caught up on each other's lives, he still lived in Jersey; she stayed on the other side, the West Coast held her home and businesses; no fear because, a plane can take you anywhere these days so here she was.

Isabella saw his small green Fiat clear the crest, near BowTie Cinemas as nervous feelings speared her chest, and just as he was primed to pass the Avenue of Vose, a semi ran into him and he crashed into a pole.

Her body pushed her out the door like Springsteen; born to run, a gawking couple cleared the sidewalk path; they wanted none, she looked into the car; a swimmy feeling filled her head, his eyes shone bright with recognition, dimmed, then he was dead.

Isabella felt her breathing labor on the low, she heard a man yell out behind her, "HEY IT'S GONNA BLOW!" Someone snatched her back before the car was blown to Hell, she said his name between the teardrops as they slowly fell.....

"Jeremy...."

©2017-The Cunning Linguist

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COMMENTS

 

social seer says:

I liked the way you lay your cards on the table and invited us in. The dated entries work perfectly too. This is a totally believable story, despite it nearly testing credibility at the end. I mean one might ask, why did the author have to kill the guy off at the end? Answer--because accidents often happen just like that in reality.
 

Street Cries says:

Yo this is fire smoking ink

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