A Night In Santa Fe, 1975
By Steve Gerson
Embedded Files
Steve Gerson, English professor emeritus, writes poetry and flash about life's dissonance. He has published in CafeLit, Panoplyzine, Crack the Spine, Decadent Review, Vermilion, In Parentheses, Wingless Dreamer, Big Bend Literary Magazine, Coffin Bell, and more, plus his six chapbooks Once Planed Straight; Viral; And the Land Dreams Darkly; The 13th Floor: Step into Anxiety, What Is Isn’t, and There Is a Season.
The night was dark, lightened
by a streetlamp haze
hovering like the snowcapped
Sangre de Cristo behind
the Cathedral de Basilica.
We turned right past
La Fonda on the Square
to follow revelers,
merry pranksters
abuzz with abandon.
Like late Fall leaves
in a wind swirl uplifted,
we followed drifting with
the seasonal pull, drawn
toward the Winter Solstice.
What lay beyond—the Cathedral’s door,
the street, the dark—
what lay ahead—our hands joined,
neither leading nor following,
grasping the mystery of our love.
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