a memory

this pen is a memory of a restaurant. across the street from a by-the-week motel on the edge of the desert in new mexico where i once passed some time. a knock on the door one night . a pretty young lady who smiled an invitation at me and asked if i had the time. i told her the time and softly closed the door in her face. i wish i had said "of course i do. lets pass this lonely night together. and talk and laugh and eat and drink and celebrate life as men and women have done for millenia as the sun rises over this barren desert". this pen is a memory i did not make. i miss her still.