Free Champagne in St Petersburg

10Jul08

Sitting in the lobby of Hotel Leningrad (in 1996) waiting for a friend led to an offer of free champagne… too good to be true?  Originally published in The Journal of Contemporary Anglo-Scandinavian Poetry.  Also included in “Yellow Torchlight and the Blues”.

 

Free Champagne in St Petersburg

In the lobby waiting for Amanda,
while avoiding eye contact with Finns
slurring their speech and making drinking motions,
I watch you pause to admire your manly reflection
in the metallic lift doors.  Your back straightens,
hands go in pockets, stride lengthens,
expression eases into a half-smile.
A casual peacock in check shirt and jeans.

I wish I’d worn a longer skirt.
My spine curves back into the seat.
I resist glancing at my watch:
it wouldn’t make Amanda apply lipstick any quicker.
I wonder if I could blink and make you disappear.
Or accompany the next Finn, intent on leaving
alcohol-restrictions at the border, to the bar.

You slide into the chair next to me
and offer a cigarette.  Without noticing me not
take one, after establishing I speak English,
you tell me you’re Dutch, disassociating
yourself from the surrounding poverty,
and holidaying alone.  You have a yacht,
apparently, but fail to tell me what it looks like.
Or where it’s moored.  Or what it’s named.

Breaking from your fascination with my skirt’s pattern,
you ask if I would like a drink and make off
for the bar before I can shake my head.
I focus on the lift doors in your absence,
willing them to burst open with Amanda’s lipsticked smile,
but the lobby echoes with silence.

A cheap champagne bottle and two glasses announce
your return.  You pour and suggest moving somewhere private.
That I don’t know your name is too feeble an excuse,
and not one that would concern you.  I propose you
tell me your room number and go on up.
Then quietly raise my glass to your retreating back.
Now I know how to avoid you.

        Emma Lee

 

 

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