Some twenty-seven miles
southwest of Algiers,
stranded with only
my wits to reassure
this fragile sense of
command,
I pause.
Looking back towards
the bus in its
state of disrepair,
I dispense with any
lingering thoughts of
reaching my destination
by nightfall.
The air is ripe with
plausibility;
my pulse accelerates
into passing gear.
This city of roses
seems to welcome me
with a profusion of
sensory decadence.
Seduced by a trace
of saffron and pepper
on the wind and a
most curious sound
across the ether,
I surrender my
footsteps to some
higher power.
Entranced,
my gaze volleys between
the soulful expression
on his face
and the eloquence of
his touch
upon the strings.
Relaxing his grip
on the neck
of the oud,
he stands in preparation
to retire for the evening.
I cannot.
I must.
Indecision be damned.
My renegade heart
threatens complete
and utter failure.
No one lingers
save him and me,
strangers on a
one way street.
His sudden rotation
towards me takes me
aback….
I am lost and found
forevermore
in the breadth
of one heartbeat.
Copyright Tina Jordan 2017, All Rights Reserved
Photo by Diego PH on Unsplash
