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Sometimes I still check the weather where you are-- today, eighty-three and sunny as hell. I bet you're by the pool with a cool drink; I'm wrapped in a wool coat with a warm one. It was one hundred degrees when you left. Can't forget the last day, my foot on the gas, down to the floor, and the turnoff to the great, looming airport. Flat brass fish swam across the tile. Now swim away, I said, and you did just that. For days I swam through ailing grass, through hardening cement, through the silence you left like a taut string throughout empty, humid rooms. On starched beds I waited. Only in dozing did my body twitch me awake, did my brain fear forgetting the shapes of your ears, the length of your eye- lashes. The day you rolled in was the hottest day on record. After you left, summer fizzled out like a match in a glass. Days later, I wore scarves and sweaters, trembling. So it goes: things begin and end; one day the hot Sun will sputter with a choking cough and pass on. Isn't it funny: I barely knew you, and now I compare you to the likes of that which lights the entire earth. |
I like the last line.... intense lol istalkmurdoch | Posted on 2010-05-02 00:00:00 | by istalkmurdoch | [ Reply to This ] | |