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He tap-tap-tapped on the window
ever so slightly, lightly so the dogs outside would be quiet. He tap-tap-tapped on HER window but SHE pretended not to notice, and slowly began to undress. HE liked that about her. He also enjoyed the sheerness of her drapes, until the cops came. He hugged me as if
I were his daughter, and in some kindred way, I had wished that I were... at that exact moment. He was in mourning, and his soul ached from the inside out. I wanted to reach in and remove his pain; to elevate his comfort. I tried... but his ribs kept getting in the way. Someday, when the cleaners have done their job, he'll hug me again. The air smelled like
the taste of ripened melon, hotter than Hades' scrotum and smothering at best. There were holes in the clouds and the crickets buzzed but whatever...it didn't stop me none. Even if God had hollered out through the holes, or stuck a hand down to knock me around, I wouldn't have felt it. I just kept digging. I'll meet you at the
Old oak stump, just after the kids go to bed. Bring the lantern and blankets so we can watch the stars. I'll wear my denim jacket in case the bugs are bad, and you wear that fedora that belonged to your Dad. I'll meet you at the Old oak stump, where we held hands as kids. I'll be there, I promise, before we're dead. You bring the shovel, and a bucket of chicken. I know I'll be hungry cause I'll be schluffin him. Meet me at the Old oak stump, after the kids go to bed. He won't mind, I promise...he'll already be dead. I wanted, once upon a
fucked up time, to believe that anything could have been possible. I wanted to shine my rays upon your face and bask in the radiating glow. But, what did I know? I knew you weren't content just then. I knew you were excited, with possibilities packed in your suitcases. I knew that I had wanted to crawl into the pockets of your backpack and travel next to your socks. I knew that I had wanted to crumple next to your jeans and slacks and hand you your toothbrush right when you needed it. I knew that I had wanted to cook you late night dinners of pork chops and baked potatoes and ask you to open the sparkling wine. I knew I had wanted to eat greasy burgers, sitting in the dirt on the side of a road somewhere while you smiled at me. I knew I had wanted to savor watching you-watch the world. I knew that I had wanted to dance with you, barefoot in the grassy fields with the boom box blaring beneath the midwest moon. I knew I had wanted you to feel happiness, in the form of whatever it took. But, I had wanted to feel it too. Once, upon a fucked up time, I thought that life would play out like cards and that the Universe would be gracious in its trumps and bowers. I see now, that it always was and that I may have passed my hand too soon. Maybe I could have made do with a few off suit and said "ok" when you found your spot and the dust had settled down. Once upon a fucked up time, I had no clue what I was doing. I had packed you away. I had stowed your memory and placed it between the rocks that I had collected. I had put your picture and note in boxes, and pulled them from my closet when Six Pence played on my stereo. Once, upon a tender sweet time, maybe I should have spoken a little louder. Birds are chirping this morning,
and the smells of summer abound. Freshly cut lawns, dew dripping from the garden... Hosta blossoms and tiger lillies floating their nectar sweet breezes, bellowing faintly for the bees. The morning feels so light. But my mind, and my heart are weighted with thoughts of a friend, a Father, a son, gone before the morning light ever graced him again. May heaven smell as lovely as this morning does. |
AuthorMolly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw. Categories |