Women Surround You

White-capped swells blur below. A raucous seagull disturbs the peaceful afternoon, but it is nothing compared to the twitter of your female devotees.

Five days I have been at sea, five days of agony watching you and your admirers pass the time in mindless chatter while I yearn for recognition. A meaningful glance. One meeting of our eyes.

“More tea?” the steward asks with a polite smile. He hides his disdain behind his uniform. The gold braid does not impress me. I send him away with an imperious flick of my wrist and turn back to you. You with your wheat field blond waves and straight nose and blue eyes. You with the crisp white shirt whose collar dances a sensuous tango with the hair on your neck. You with the tight-fitting black pants that showcase your marvelous thighs. But it is not your outward appearance that attracts me. It is your melancholy stare when you look out over the endless water that retreats with Rose’s soft hand on your arm or Maryanne’s light silvery laugh.
Yes, all the women think you’re beautiful. One loves your eyes, another your graceful hands, and another the tiny scar above your left eye. Did you think I didn’t notice how they gaze at you, so coy one moment, so lovingly the next? Their eyelashes flutter, lips pout, upturned chins angle closer to catch your attention.
But none of them know the real you. A gust of wind dislodges a red straw hat from Sybil, the Garbo look-alike. With a gallant bow you sweep low to rescue the pathetic item, delivering it with a flourish and a charming grin.

The ship will dock soon, two hours I hear the steward say, the steward who now gives me a cold stare. I have no care for his insecurity. My focus is you and your gaggle of vapid showgirls who command your interest. Your time. Your effort.

You who stand at the railing not ten yards away, oblivious to my plight, while I rub weary eyes and stroke my beard and let my cigarette dangle from loose fingers. I who sit here, staring, trembling in your presence.
The first glimpses of land appear on the horizon.

Andwerve, May 2006