A girl like Nadya: Whew!
Living in the back of a State Street
antique store on a mattress,
She was a dish-nik* girl.
We were looking at delicate, carved oddities
and amusing ourselves in the shop.
There was laughter and touching.
She embraced me...
at first, casual for a hug,
then she pressed her body to mine.
I breathed in the sensual contours of her scent.
Her heat was moist warmth, humid,
not a fiery thing...
Then in a snap: "Stop!
nothing is going to happen here," she says.
Back to where we started.
Who is Nadya?
A girl I knew a while back:
A girl wildly boozed and coked up...
blond and lean; full of her self,
enamored of the narcissism of floozydom:
I liked Nadya.
She was in her twenties and I was just becoming "not young",
hitting on forty, newly divorced and needing the fun.
Somewhere back there I had gone through the door that
separates youth from middle age.
You don't try to hang on to it.
Somewhere along the way such efforts become more fodder
for pathos and self-pity. Lke lemmings to the cliff... they
just run headlong into disgust.
*Dish-nik 1. Too good looking to be thought of as a beatnik:
Doesn't read books: doesn't like poetry: doesn't like art; Likes clubbing: has no political knowledge or ideals but hates Republicans for ripping her off somehow.: likes staying up all night on ex or flirting coke away from strangers. She is "Beat" however... just plain beat/... but her attraction is that she doesn't know it. 2. A dinged or slightly damaged item; i.e., nick in a plate.
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