cheeseeye

the last ten minutes....

i want to live in the French restaurant where it's always 10 till 8 and there are white napkins next to my chilled mimosa. the trees are ever turning and the air is chilled just so you know winter comes but before you remembered to bring a sweater.

the sun is setting but darkness takes the longest minute ever...a season to itself, in which time a thousand worlds are born and there are first kisses in a booth hidden near the back.

the shift change never comes, the candles are lit, but the windows breath soft light, making everyone look beautiful.

the tinkling of ice cubes as they melt in the scotch on the bar in front of the old drunk who is just getting too loud but still humors us.

the smell of appetizers mingle with my cigarette and Chanel which hasn't worn off my wrists yet.

the soft music has just swelled, enough for women to throw back their heads and laugh without caution.

before madness and after tears, stories brewing and magik delights filling souls with dreams.

time holds it's breath and waits for the second hand that does not move.