Every man has that one unforgettable woman that will haunt him until his final day; the girl that got away. Allie detested television, vanilla ice cream, and missionary. She explored the depths of her sexuality; while I discovered the heights of my pain. My muse had a nickname. I called her Devil Girl. I write these words to ease my sorrows. My name is Andrew.
This is our story.
the moving train rocked gently
Devil Girl moved back and forth
against the groin that pressed her bottom
causing a smile on construction workers face
I had enough of watching
muscle man and my Allie
do the subterranean lambada
the train pulled into the station
perfect time to move toward them
the doors opened
an elderly woman boarded
I slowly helped her to the nearest seat
my gaze returned to Allie
she was gone
my eyes darted from left to right
pushed through the crowded subway car
where could she be
the train door shut
my heart resembled jungle drums
I glanced out the window
there she was
talking to the construction brute
smiling at his words
nodding as he spoke
her skirt lifting in the air
the train pulled out of the station
into the dark tunnel
You hurt me Devil Girl
You know the drill; to be continued.
The Lonely Author 