Snow Cones

Remember when we used to buy 

snow cones for thirty cents  outside the 

theater and then steal away in your car to 

cruise the boulevard? You listened for hours.

Remember when we'd sit in the park that summer, 

sitting on the swings, digging our feet into dark sand,

a sunset barely visible through the trees, the hill

sloping away into a yawning lake?

I went there myself once, you know,

staying until it was too dark to see,

until I didn't feel safe by myself, without you. 

I told you everything that summer

in a letter I never sent. 

Sympathies

My greatest sympathies to the 

Night, who must come after the

Day, and whose dark cloak gives her 

Ill name, while her mallumined corridors 

Harbor a heterogeneous heaven, but not

Unkind; 

Whose sounds signal sleep, the dreams we all 

Need-- yet whose shadows chaperon nightmares,

Steadfast steward to unrest, companion, friend;

Caretaker of the care-worn, playing

Host to deeds of Hate, unhappily. 

My greatest sympathies to the Night, by whose

watch we are healed, whose defamation breeds our

Noblesse, who does bear the cross before man's new

Breath, who turns our ingratitude to light--

Yes, my greatest sympathies to the Night.  

Stay: Who?

I dilly-dally my way behind houses and across lawns, the smack-smack of my flip-flops against the pavement providing the processional in time to an acoustic crooner. The melody is slightly flat. The harmony is a discord. 

The sun is kind today. It kisses the crook behind my elbow, the corner between my neck and shoulder. I shouldn't trust the sun, this temperamental tempter, dressing me in spring. But I don't care today. Let the sun seduce me. I've other temptations to worry about. 

Between dull chords and the chitting of birds an owl sends waves of worry through me with his question: "Who? Who?"

Silently, "I don't know." 

"Who? Who?"

The chords mold into bricks, the birds are swallowed in the soil. I only know a dormant tree playing host to this mocking interrogator. 

"You should know better." 

"I do-"

"You don't act like it."

His swiveling eyes search me. He shakes his head.

"You don't believe it." 

"I don't know what I believe."

"...Or what you want."

"Yes, yes, so you know." 

"And you don't."

The tree looked dead, but I knew it wasn't. I believed it wasn't. I knew when the sun decided to stay, it would kiss the tree's fingertips into beautiful buds of pagan green.

"Hmm... pagan... eh?"

"Don't you dare."

"I'm just sayin'. ..."

I take a moment to solidify my bones and the blood forming inside of them. When I know, I feel it in my bones. I need them strong if I intend to stay alive. 

"It's different when we get beyond all that flesh and muscle isn't it?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Are you sure this isn't just the natural man breaking away your bones?"

"..."

"..."

No, I don't know. This is entirely new to me. I suddenly feel cold--from the inside. 

"Chilly? Isn't it?"

"Shut up you warm-blooded freak of an animal!"

"You shouldn't call yourself names like that."

"Who? Why!? More importantly: How!!??!!"

"Now you're getting somewhere."

Suddenly, I see a small kitchen crowded with bare feet and squeals of laughter.  We're dancing.

Then the picture goes blank.

"Now you're just going backwards."

"By going forwards?"

"You worry about the future too much."

I know there's no guarantee. Maybe I'm expecting too much, but the kitchen isn't much. The red front-door. The garage. 

"Ah, the garage. Too bad it's what came out of that thing that's gotten you into this mess."

"No, I got myself into this mess." 

I'd rather not talk about it. The tree gets lost behind hedges and a house, the door in a fence beckons me with it's hinges. I don't know who, but that's not a door I want to walk through. 

Stay: Reason to Leave

Just when I think I've made up my mind, you come knocking around my door sheepishly with that sly grin, as if you know I'm going to take to your trap. You flaunt another impossibility in front of my face, forcing the corners of my lips to my eyes as I press my lips together in another attempt to keep control of these runaway feelings. 

I try to convince myself that it's a platonic smile, but I don't present a very good case and the jury's still out. 

I rest my chin in my hand and sigh. For a moment you've made me forget; you're a smooth competitor. Then I remember, you're two sides of the same ocean. Too much.

I wonder if I can ever enter that water again-- the saying "You can never step in the same river twice," I think of it now. The river may not be the same, but I wonder, will the waters be just as lovely? Will they cool and clean and caress me the way they did? Or will they lap up on different shores I've never seen? Will they get lost in the ocean forever, home to bright fishes, covering coral reefs who hide their treasures, glistening under a sun too far west? 

Your words chip and chisel at my granite heart. They give me reason to leave.