Rendezvous

Spring. The season of renewal, rebirth, regeneration-at least in biological terms.

The weather sings to its own tune;

It gives zero fucks about my birthday plans.

Most likely, neither does Sugar-

the fifteen year old I'm about to meet.

I paid for an hour of her time <oh, well>

because it's an experience I desire.

I walk across the concrete courtyard soil

toward where she fidgets, waiting.

Her dark silhouette contrasts in stark relief

against the ice-blue crystalline sky.

I shiver with anticipation, cold, or both

watching her silky tresses wave in the breeze.

Tempered by years of strict training, she stills as I approach, then raises her eyes to mine.

In that moment, nothing exists. Time stops.

Her soul leaps out of her expressive dusky eyes,

touching mine so intimately I feel it in my bones.

Pain and despair crash down on me, suffocating,

pulling hot, salinous rivers over my frozen cheeks.

Perhaps we've been tethered for millennia?

I realize with sudden clarity that I cannot.

I can't use her-pay for her-exploit her.

Instead, I stroke her auburn hair with reverence,

whispering gentle words of understanding

as the stablemaster removes her weathered saddle.