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Final Affair
by
Rusty Broadspear
The car sat
darkly. Blind headlights
Saw nothing of the cliff top or low slung Moon.
On the grass, beside the open driver's door,
They lay side by side, naked upon a blanket
Bathing in starlit luminosity,
Allowing John Williams to spray them
With finger-light notes, from his acoustic
guitar,
Via the cd player, in the otherwise silent,
Unbreathing car.
As the Moon reluctantly dipped below the cliff,
Their minds journeyed backwards,
To moments ago,
As their lovemaking slipped gently from crescendo,
To a secretly whispered pact.
The car did nothing but play a cd.
John Williams moved over to an even slower track.
They held hands and could hear
The faint crash of waves on distant sands.
The car, a silent, gently creeping, bobbing
silhouette,
Blind, with no heart and no breath,
But on course - a stealth mission.
Muffled chords from
John Williams' final track wept a farewell.
Soon the car bowed to the view of the bay,
Hesitating, blindly admiring, a moonlit vista,
And then it was gone.
And in the morning, the Sun shone.
Dew soaked grass danced and glistened,
A rogue breeze lifted the corner of an abandoned
blanket.
Seagulls soared, laughing in a new day.
Freshness woven within the coastal air.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The 'secret pact' to make that night their last
And to return to other lives.
Was no longer secret, no longer mattered.
An elderly dog walker reported to the police,
A naked couple running to a phone box.
The police arrived with a local reporter.
The car was found.
The full story was told to the population.
For years they have lived and loved happily
together
And often recount the tale,
Of the car with a dodgy handbrake.
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