THE SEDUCTIVE GUITAR

Seductions

Entering, it chic, understated.
An abode at the top of one too many stair for the days to had had & also the condition to find self, being a bit weighted, slightly the good side of bad.

Entering, a shrine bringing hidden character to the self-effaced now stranger standing respectfully distanced aside before which un-imagined.

Entering, a guitar stood, casually leaned against a dated leather chair. There, in the middle of a tattered passed-down oriental spread upon the parqueted floor; all surroundings casually fashioned.

It solemnly there. Times’ marks & wear showed that most things there had experienced life lived galore.

Entering, scents of old English leather with faint hints of aged smoked pipe & cigar permeated the still musty but fragrant air.

The rug held only clues of a past when ancestral footsteps of lives entering & leaving in different eras, a different place, through a different door, as had been laid upon varying tile & floor. The Mis’ess & maidens of then & again, being ignored all awhile about their unnoticed chores, upon the rug’s paths often as now, to nowhere they wore.

The guitar had been gently coddled by many the lovers’ secure & gentle hands before, but some as lovers so often do, had left scars of once deep passions upon too its face and fretboard.

Imagined having discreetly as occasions prior too that the Taylor had been placed when last quit being teased of a tune w/o the last bar, only to near ecstasy, just so far.

Entering, and as must be but a necessary routine, quickly again this done; as this new character slowly made known to me lifted it, strummed, picked & hummed as a mythical siren still to a depth, an essence I only left to fathom.

What in moments of now unexpected voyeurism had in my blown mind to had begun?

Left but a moment alone, strategically allowed for once an arrogance to atone I’m sure. Yet the delicate figure eight seemed growing prominent & its’ spirit being pure beckoning with only eloquent seductive presence for me to choose my fate.


I sensed a requirement that any that could, would feel a natural lure; possessing a willingness to bring w/proper touch & manipulation, if a musing’s fondling of tuned taught strings ‘d cause the sensuous seasoned box to fill, a voicing of melodies waiting to climax in unison as its’ newest lover w/ satisfaction wailed,

then sing together of the exact thing,

Believing more than the eve growing late, compelled by an arousal undisguised & unable nor want conceal, I asked if I might hold close & be fed by mere touch, freely tease & play if may…..feel.

But, overlooked greater that may forsake, could see such an immediate unease instead.

And amid the evening’s fray, realized that I had anticipated way too much, overextended a welcoming stay. A treasure of both eminent Rarenesses no one could steal; multiply life’s mistakes.

(Instead, there something admitted beyond the universal language of harmony’s appeal, though we cherish the mornings to awake, for kindred too beside us in our bed.)