memory lane

My memory lane is cracked and uneven.

Just yesterday I walked through my old home.
Familiar yet unfamiliar.
I wonder if her someone new notices all the small reminders of the old me.

And now, today, the song the radio is a time machine. Where she is in the living room wondering who I am now and why we were never together. After thirteen years of friendship shrouded in mysteries and unspoken attraction. She always single, me never willing to cross the invisible boundary of…what? I don’t know.

Women of my past haunt me.
That is what they call history.

This afternoon I’ll be headed to Vegas.
It’s bright lights and sin city.
Standing face to face with the woman I desire, a woman from my past, and the woman who needs me.

Women surround me.
A gift to myself wrapped with pretty paper and a bright bow.  Hiding what’s on the inside.
That is what they call the present.

But I am imagining holding the woman I desire.
No words…only the click of a hotel key.
The flush of a realized crush would be a dream.
And so much unlike me.

Women are a big unknown.
My future is a big mystery.

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