A "Ghost" Tale ( Dec 2001)

("Ghost" Erin Beth Strange circa 2001)

I think all relationships should last just three hours like a great epic movie. By the time the credits roll the cinematic magic is over.

I have three important and frequently used folders in my MSN Mailbox: Friends, Flames and Ghosts. I have learned this is a very inefficient way of filing correspondence from women as the movement between these three is often furious and unpredictable which results in the same person’s mail finally ending up spread out amongst all three.

Some begin as Friends and then swell into a Flame, some Flame early and then for various reasons usually self-inflicted end up in the Friend box. Some migrate between the two as backsliding and other human weakness set in. In the end, almost all become Ghosts.

In rare occasions a Ghost will resurrect back into something else but that only happens during a full moon when the rising House of Venus is in alignment with the Cusp of Sagittarius’ schwanz. My Ghost folder continues to haunt my consciousness. Here is a brief exorcism of one such spirit:

I met Erin Beth on a business trip to Kansas in some small town so insignificant I have long since forgotten its name. She was a 23 year old waitress who was working at the local Rudy’s Rib Emporium all-you-can eat steakhouse. I was 32 and getting ready to end another 2 year plus dismal relationship which lasted about 18 months too long where I had completely surrendered all power and ignored important boundaries.

I was with a few colleagues and asked her innocently enough where the bathroom was and we continued the conversation after I returned. Boom…instant connection which sometimes occurs where the actual topics of conversation become secondary. I invited her after her shift to follow our group and we ended up talking, drinking and dancing until late. She clumsily kissed me on the dance floor in one of those rare occasions where a woman takes the initiative. Around 2AM, I gave my car keys to one of my colleagues and went back to her apartment.

We talked, played a bit but didn’t have sex as I usually fall in love way to quickly to rush into such matters I deem as common. At 6 AM, she dropped me off at my hotel and that was the end. Before I left she told me what had initially attracted her to me. She said it was the way I held my cocktail glass in my hand, three fingers wrapped loosely around the side with my pinky sticking out, detached, almost completely straight. She found it expressive, refined, and sensual.

A flurry of emails, phone calls, Hallmark cards followed with affectionate expressions, promises and plans to see each other again. But, she found out she was pregnant from an ex she was still backsliding from and I ended my current relationship and moved to Italy. I never heard from her again. I know what one-night stands feel like but this SEEMED so real. I wrote this poem for her:

Strangers
12/22/01
In an instant a stranger becomes known.
The light sensation of your breath against my neck assures me this is real.
How long have I known you? All my life or never?
I can’t recall.

As I take your hand the warm touch fills my soul, nothing else is important at this moment.
As I taste your lips I am reminded of passions’ past but yet it is not the same.
I feel secure in your arms as I rest my head against your breast. Nothing can harm me even though I am exposed to all the pain of the world.

We share only one night but it lasts an eternity. The dawn breaks and I am old, on my deathbed and not yet ready to surrender to the reality of the return to my routine afterlife.
If I could have just one more moment what would I say? How would I touch you? How would I make you understand?

As I watch you walk away departing into my past I know I may never see you again.
At this moment I also realize I will never know you better.