Melbourne CBD Winter, 2018.
I’m In the Mood for Love, after Bryan Ferry
The tram stutters
she falls into him
his chin on her crown
a jut that steadies
her face angled
and eyes like polished coins
this peck on feathery cheek
he coos back softly
his overcoat a winged embrace
another two loiter
slumming it
beside broken glass
and graffiti screams,
sleek and unlined skin
beneath distressed denim
camera phone aloft
behold the millennial moue
there, another pair
wispy grey hair flying
a swirl of polluting wind
he pushes through first
hand small in his palm
she walks a beat behind
in footsteps
cleared of debris
They are everywhere
these lovers
a trespasser
through triple-glazed glass
I watch them with
the head of a cynic
the heart of a poet
down blustery corners
cocoa and milk fed warm
eternity scarves
over plump white necks
hiding traces
of yesterday’s coupling.
Sometimes I think life would be far more interesting if, like in the movies, there’s a soundtrack playing in the background during moments of great emotional resonance. And so it goes, one wintry day wandering about alone in the CBD streets of Melbourne, I had in my mind’s ear, the haunting strains of In the Mood for Love when, almost accidentally, I kept seeing lovers everywhere. The soundtrack to the Wong Kar-wai film is exquisite, and although this particular song never appeared in the movie itself, the title of the film, In the Mood For Love, was inspired by the dapper, honey-tongued and hair-slicked Bryan Ferry. It’s just about the sexiest song I can think of as well. Every time I hear it, I think of sashaying Maggie Cheung in her sinewy, skintight cheongsams, lowered eyes in quiet, coquettish half-glances at the debonair, immaculately suited Tony Leung, who’s equally transfixed by this splendid vision before him. It’s a song about the frisson of sexual and romantic connection and what’s so piquant and poignant about it is that the film is about dashed opportunities for such possibilities. There is seduction without undressing; volumes said without a single word.
So, Melbourne: among the weary commuters furrowed with bone-coldness, among the stripped trees and leaden dirty-linen skies, are all these lovers popping up like red-capped buttony mushrooms. I was not surprised to learn that the original title for the movie was The Age of Blossoms. Here, now, even as the heavens threaten to open and umbrellas are poised at the ready, Ferry’s plaintive plea If there’s a cloud above/ If it should rain, we’ll let it/ But for tonight forget it/I’m in the mood for love… is enough to herald the sense of beginnings, of beauty and freshness and Spring.
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