Carried Away

Carried Away

by Julie Ellinger Hunt


I got carried away
last night when you
whispered something
in my ear about the waiter’s
smallish pants.
There was this faint smell
of garlic and angels on your
breath and for a minute
I got carried away—
to a tiny villa
in the French country side.
You toasting baguette
slices on a hearth
while I swooned
over your perfectly
formed features.

We took a walk after
our light fare and I
wore the pink flip-
flops you love so much,
getting damp from
midnight mist
left over by a passing
shower.

I got carried away
to the ceramic tiled
bathroom
and large soaking tub.
We rubbed glitter and
grass
off
our bodies and told
stories about elementary
school crushes.

Next, I was taken
to a baptism.
You were
there as a child
with light blonde
ringlets
and the most subtle
cry.

And back at
the café, the waiter
with the smallish
pants winked at me
when I turned to
you and said:

“They always use too
much garlic here.”

I carried away the
bag of leftovers
to a smallish loft
near Battery park.


–refers to/from Elizabeth Glixman’s photo essay The Walk 

  1. I am glad those pink flip flops inspired you. Lovely poem uniting food at a cafe, romance and the memory of a “baptism.”

  2. I read the poem again. Perhaps this is not a romance but about a parent and grown up child.

  3. It is about a romance. An odd one! lol

  4. Your poem carried me away. Thank you Julie!

  1. Pingback: “Carried Away” now published by Referential Mag! Don’t forget to check out the prompt that inspired the poem. | Julie Ellinger Hunt

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