Rendezvous

Rendezvous


Cloudy, with rain, New York in October; dusk I stood outside
Radio City Music Hall and waited for no one in particular.
Jack Dempsey was walking by he had a strong masculine face,
smiled to everyone, which made sense, as everybody knew him,
beside him walked Alan Ladd, a tiny man with a big man’s face.

I felt like an inhabited, lonely island in a stream, “Hemingway?”
“No, not at all, and let me finish. A sea of people parted in front of
me joined up again, as a mighty river behind me that flowed down
the sidewalk reaching a group of excited, people, clicking cameras and flashlight that lit up even the faces of the notorious.

And there was Marilyn walking towards me, but as she came so
near that I could touch her; I was pushed aside by rude journalists who shouted silly questions at her: “Are you getting married?
Who’s your latest boyfriend?” I was her boyfriend, we had a secret understanding. Marilyn didn’t see me that twilight moment, but her perfume dreamily swirled around me as I entered the cinema to see Casablanca