a love unfulfilled

by Christensen Sen

It's the dreamy air that will send you off to your death
The dark silence stoking amber light in the distance
And you're heading home, the car droning along at speeds,
that safe speed that keeps your blood warm and cradles
your heart. Your foot's steady on the accelerator, every
peaceful thought you own kneels at the altar of your being

Stars play accomplice to the magic of the french country side
neon lights hurtle by without sound. The names of towns
flung into the glass depths of your rear view mirror, where all
vanishes. Fourteen hours straight at the wheel, in three hours time
It will be her birthday; You will finally get to see your love
after ever so long.

You'll walk silently into the house, slip off your shoes
Climb the stairs, undress, the slide into bed with her;
You'll make love and stay up till dawn embraces the new day.
But through Saint-Louis to Strasbourg the darkness takes over, the car slips through time.
On the seat beside your own, a veined road-map of eastern France,
a small velvet jewellery box, and bottle of red wine.
On the seat of your own, a love unfulfilled.