Bourbon Street Bitter

I am here now, standing in the lobby under the chandelier.   The antique love seat is beckoning to me, yet painfully prevalent is the dichotomy.  I stand here thinking of you and the wonderment that we two may experience and still, I am here...alone.  I must not forget the reason that I am present there steps away from the jazz echoing through the hallows of the lobby, yet the same reason I am there sits microscopicly small in the palm of my hand as I hear the dixie drawl wafting through the spacious but suddenly small space in which I stand.

A memory not yet created plays out before my eyes.

A couple, oblivious to all that surrounds them, stands at the marble counter, hand in hand, as the desk attendant hands him the room key.  A look, then a smile, transfers one to the other as they step away and walk, slowly around the corner.  I follow them.  The elevator, decorated with brass, mirrors, and marble, stops at the second floor and she jumps, startled, as the elevator doors slide open behind them.  They step out and again, I follow.  

The visions stops abruptly as a young woman with a thick french accent says "hello miss!  Enjoy your stay at the Astor Crowne Plaza."  I sigh heavily as I thank her and walk a few steps to my room.

As the key card clicks and the door unlocks, the memory begins again, as if I had pressed play on a video recorder.  This time I see only you.  Your face rough with stubble is a welcome feeling under my fingertips.  Your eyes warm and welcoming disappear quickly as my eyes close and we kiss.  Soft, tender, desperate kisses between whispers of "I love you" and "I've missed you so"...

The ringing phone jogs me back into a cold reality.  I shake my head for clarity as I answer the thin black device that is  smaller than the palm of my hand.  My boss.  A warm and welcome voice wishing me to have fun in New Orleans and to be safe.  "Meet lots of people" he says.  I say "I will..." and an obligatory "thank you" before I hang up the phone.  It is so unlike me to be so out of sorts.  Every confidence I thought I had was gone.  I am in a strange place, alone, feeling suddenly self conscious and disoriented.  I have an obligation to fulfill by being there, so I whisper to no one "I'll be back soon, please wait for me".

I enter a room filled with people dressed in suits with impeccable appearances, and here stand I, in a pair of running pants and a sweater.  My feet are swollen to such extent the only shoes I can wear are my Adidas.  Feeling defeated, I decide appearance is less important than the reason I came, and I try to forget that I am severely under dressed for the occassion.  Being self-conscious, although a usual beginning thought, rarely ever motivates my behavior.  Until now.

I interact, joke, and introduce myself to many people, all the while wishing you here by my side.  You have a way of making me forget that I don't fit in.  I've decided to go for a walk.  Bourbon Street is quite a sight at night.  Jazz bands play, brazen and passionate, on the street corners.  I long for you to share it with me.  I smile and sway to the music while walking.  I even dance with my eyes closed at the thought of you by my side.   This is the perfect place for that.  The people here are colorful and dance themselves.  Watching them, I forget the bitter reality that you are not here, on Bourbon Street, with me.

Close your eyes.  See the bronze statues in front of the courtyard?  Look up and see the cast iron balcony.  Can you hear the jazz band playing Basin Street Blues by the Mills Brothers?  Play the song...listen and imagine us here together.  If I think of you here in this place thinking of me, the bitterness of the reality here on Bourbon Street is not so real.  

Listen to the music...and imagine yourself here...with me.   Bourbon Street is a bitter place to be without you.







 

 

 

Reviews

[Pax Analog]

The juxtaposition of jubilant New Orleans (pre-Katrina anyway; I suspect the spirit is bouncing back, and the Saints don't hurt) w/the empty aborted feeling of being without the comforting loved one is poignant.

I have vivid memories of New Orleans as well, a contrast of the city's famous virtues and a stormy brief dramatic romance circa '97-'98, so the setting has extra resonance for me.

It is a universal emotion, loneliness in a strange city. If we are riding some personal or transpersonal high, then alone can be intriguing, rich w/possibilities. Even a brooding moodiness. . .But missing someone can be oh so painful in that situation.

Nice touch, adding the player w/the sounds of Bourbon Street.

One wants to hold the narrator's hand, but even bitter emotions express the range of the soul. . .

[emmajoy]

Beautifully sad, sadly beautiful - either way, this story really touches me. You describe the place and its atmosphere simply yet clearly but the longing for that other person stands out like a dark, dark shadow against a mirror. What highlights it is the way you're diminished by his absence, how much more you'd feel with him by your side. Technically your writing rings every bell; and, you've played the game with tense and it works superbly, talking in present time because that's how and where you want it to be.

Your writing always impresses and moves me, this is no exception.

[cartera]

Lots of questions raised in the narrative, and this gives the whole piece a myserious air, or 'voice', which is maintained thoughout.
I rather felt that you were a little indecisive as to whether to go the whole hog with the narrator's 'stream of consciousness', and so some sentence construction falls between two 'voices'. the choice of the present tense for past recollections is well done.
All in all it felt like the beginning of a longer tale that waits to be told.
Well done.
ATB
Alex.

[Antonio Valentino]

Aww, this was so great, what a nice piece to read this evening, I think I'm going to go pour me a drink of bourbon now and just relish in this vision. You are an amazing writer SM, my mindspan is so short I'm lucky to finish a short poem before my imagination starts to wander about. Loved this, I hope you're a published author, this is superb work.

Antonio

[Judy M Cox-Rouse]

What a wonderful memory. And you tell it so well. I love to read these stories that my mind can see so well and absorb the words. Lovely.

[Legion]

I imagine such a place would feel odd being alone. Paris is probably similiar. A well written piece that brings that feeling to the reader in spades. Kudos.

[Ladysue]

A very moving story that many can relate to. Beautifully executed with a soft rich feel. You have captured the pain of missing that someone with finesse...

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

That was really something Suzi.... it played out in my head with all the glorious images and emotional journey... funny how a fantasy can actually feel so real that we miss it so much.

[Dezaraye]

This is absolutely beautiful. You swept me away ... out of this classroom I'm sitting in ... longing to be somewhere else. Your words are eloquent and flow so beautifully. This reads like a prose poem and I loved your choice of words.

[bluessadmood]

You know dear ,the best way to judge a writing ,when you are not in a good mood..
if it could bring your feeling good and bring you back to the real world,and you feel good
ha ha,then i know its a good writing..and this was so good..
I ve been a lot to strange places ,driven a lot to different places,i never wanted to be there
its so oppressing..its a great detachment to just ,as usual,close your eyes and think of him or her..only
imagine she is there with you,o share the soft music you create yourself in your mind..
she is there to make you feel fit in any place..oh yes only her will make it feel so very home and lovely
so heavenly to talk to her,you will forget all the surrounding you dont want to see
you will only see her face..smiling and cheeks will touch,a kiss will make you really forget
and live your special world..and feel like a trip ,a hasty trip to heavens..
I really loved your words..you another guage for a good write,is when i feel like i could continue
from where you left..its like my words and thoughts ..i could really take it from the end and start for more....
lovely write..