Imagine this . . . - Harry Gordon

Inspired by John Hawkes' Character in The Perfect Storm

Imagine this...........

You're walking along a New Orleans sidewalk. A soft summer breeze delivers the smell of crayfish, a hint of cinnimon and allspice is in the air and you're starving.  You walk into the restaurant.

The atmosphere is dark and cool. You look up and see stars twinkling above. Across the room you see willow trees swaying in the light summer breeze. Fireflies buzz in the branches, flickering their light here and there, disappearing then reappearing. You hear the faint voice of crickets as they play their tune and somewhere in the distant background, a lonesome train whistle blows.

The Matre'D approaches you and extends his arm. You take it and he leads you across the room to a table next to a lake. Small fish jump with a quite splash.  Spanish moss hangs from the trees and gently flutter in the breeze. Just a hint of honeysuckle is in the air. The man seats you and walks away.

Shortly, a waiter delivers a small delicate plate of your favorite fruit and a glass of slightly chilled water with a dash of lemon. A side of freshly baked sourdough is at your right hand with fresh drawn butter with a dash of garlic.  You eat.

Then a man wearing a black tuxedo and white shirt walks up to your table. He looks familiar, but you can't place him. He walks up to you, gently bends at the waist and extends a weathered hand. "I am Bob Dylan," he says. "I'll be your singer tonight and I have been asked to sing a special song, That I wrote, for you from a very special admirer of yours."

Mysteriously a short piano rolls up next to your table. A small, soft spotlight eluminates the singer as he sets on a small bench seat facing you. You look around and the room is dark and you and the piano man are all that there is. He sets at the piano facing you. You can see his rugged face clearly as though it were etched into your memories from long ago. The lines of wisdom and age stand out on his weathered face as though he were the voice of the ages.
He raises his hands to the keyboard, his long fingers stretch out and touch the first note, then the next and the next.  A simple melody, so soft and pure fills the air.

Then his gravelly voice, so ancient and so pure, raises up in the night air and weaves itself perfectly between the notes coming from the black and white keys.  He knows his song well and he sings it just for you......

"When the rain's blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I would offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love

I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling down the avenue
There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love

Storms are raging on the rollin' sea
Down the highway of regret
The winds of change are blowing wild and free
But you ain't seen nothing like me yet

There ain't nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the earth for you
make you happy, 
make your dreams come true
To make you feel my love."

The spot light that had illuminated the singer dims and fades to darkness and like a puff of smoke that was once here, he is gone, blown away by the wind, to another place where hearts thirst  and drink of the music of love.
Another light to your left appears ever so dimly and begins to increase in intensity.

Setting on a chair is a man. His reddish hair stands out as does the wisdom buried deep behind his eyes. The chair is turned backwards and he is setting on it leaning forward with his arms resting on the top of the chair back, facing you. He stands and walks to you, extending his hand. He does not bow but takes your hand and gently but surely pulls you to your feet and pulls you close to him. You are face to face with this gentle stranger. His deep blue eyes look into your soul as he wraps his arm around your waist. A hint of old spice or perhaps.....you can't quite place the cologne, but it is pleasant and sparks a hidden desire somewhere in your soul.

A song begins to play a melody so sweet and your feet begin to follow his.  It's a dance to the rhythm of the music playing.......

-30-
Previous story: Blink | Back to Creative Writing