The Last Stop

I placed my lips on your neck, curved away from me, looking out the window
your soft hair stood up but you said nothing,
silent as the green countryside passing by.
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know", you said. It wasn't dismissive this time; it had been in the past
when we were still laughing on Princes Street and window shopping like all the other tourists.
Your insouciant smiles soothed that sinking feeling that was beginning to grow in my chest.
It was premature then but it had ripened now. All that careless energy evaporated.
I wanted to look into your eyes but I had to make do with their ghost on the glass, looking not at me
but somewhere else, or some time else perhaps.
Your hand fell on my lap warm and still. For a moment I felt like a man on the execution block
wanting desperately to stretch out time, by some alchemy turn a single moment into an eternity.
The hills no longer racing by but only passing slowly helped fuel my desperate wish.
An electric pre-recorded voice announced what I already knew it would.
You looked at me finally granting my wish. Your big brown eyes like still oceans. I could
no longer sail in them; I was drowning. You smiled a sweet smile and kissed me on the lips.
"Where are you going?"
"Away,"
I was too weak with sadness to embrace you, and I knew you knew. You got up, your soft curls
brushing against my cheek.
"Goodbye Andrew."
I counted your footsteps to the end of the car as if a number could give me power over them.
The train started up again, but I felt emptier than the car I was now sitting in.
A solitary hot tear fell down my cold cheek while I sat watching my Gypsy lover disappear into the distant green hills.