You'll Be Here Soon Poem by Francis Poole

You'd be here soon, you said.
So I closed the blinds
Put on Villa Lobos and
Stretched out on the sofa
Glass of pomegranate wine
(gift from you) at arm's reach.
Soon I was in the Brazilian jungle
being serenaded by brass-throated wolves
While gliding in a dugout canoe
Down an ever-narrowing river
Until the leaves of overhanging trees
Shaded me in mottled tones
Of fading light.
There on a sandy islet
You stood holding a fluted basket
Of crayfish.
We grilled them over a small fire
And hungrily sucked the shells clean
In the moonlight.
Just as we climbed into the canoe
To lie down
A car alarm went off
Down the street. I awoke
Panting with green fear
And a strange joy at finding
Myself still alone.