Saturday, March 13, 2010

remembering things.

suddenly time came pouring in through the holes in the roof. low, lovely lengths of time. squat cottage with weeds, a little girl running through time. jumping up to fetch the tiny golden apples off the trees. they are bruised and she is apprehensive of eating them. the weeds against her bare knees, young youth. sky sparkling, clutching her in its inverted palms. bare feet in a water pool. no chlorine to sting you. mother, her mother to protect you. golden apples breaking from the tree, share with the cream-colored rabbits. youth always in season. things ripening, becoming. flash of indifference. bungalow dreams in a little room that fits snugly you and your now. cards splayed out on plastic tables, names on thick tape on thick chairs. mosquitos want to play. blue, white. blue, white. china. israel. cups behind glass facing a fuzzy television screen. he conveniently lost his hearing. he will love you, they will all love you. fireworks behind the lake behind the casino that wasn't really a casino. seltzer water sprays your mouth. chopped liver. tuna fish. eggsalad. voices of the knowing, the been. they hand you this life, and now you know why.




black hot car top. he comes to you. he fumbles under young skies. sitting in blue. delegate the roles but he's waited so long and can't. soft strings around your neck. soon to be broken. by his fumbling fingers. buy him time. your name. talk of consequence. lives meet. lives touch. lips touch. you love him, too.




something dark gnawed at the big clay bowl in front of her, stealing her appetite. she would miss the taste of fresh lemons and cool sour cream coming together in her mouth. most of all, she would miss him. miss the feel of him. he said her body was a blessing, and now she had to damage it with this cafeteria food. where was the soul, the heat? they had talked as they chopped vegetables. she would hum to him and he would pull her close and they would know how alone they were together. how badly she wanted to reach again for the knife now. no, she couldn't harm him. it would change nothing. they had let each other go. it had been decided in the food court, in fact. but there was nothing to eat between them then. no more food from the heart. she remembered when he cancelled on their grocery shopping date the week before. how significant it all seemed, had seemed. on her tongue, she could taste the spices that he threw together in a bag. like her mother once did. she thought of how they both let her go, free to be.



2 comments:

  1. Love this post... beautifully written!

    I have an award for you over at my blog!

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  2. I love the smooth connections between fresh flavors and the raw presence of love.
    wonderful writing, thank you.
    Thank you for reading my work.
    Dianne

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