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Sunday, March 30, 2003 The air blew in chilly gusts, and spread the remaining autumn leaves over the street. They made soft sounds as they floated, like paper ships on a rough ocean of concrete. She could hear her heart beating in her chest, the blood pounding in her veins. Instinctively, her fists opened and closed as if trying desperately to hold on to whatever was left. She looked up at the window and saw the curtains move briefly, then still. The front door opened. She stood there a mass of uncertainty and broken resolve, then walked inside closing the door behind her. (archives | details | blogger) Saturday, March 15, 2003 The stem of my glass reflected back the happy couple sitting across from me. Their hands were elongated, faces swirled in green liquid, smiling. The room glowed softly, swaying internally to the repetitive, ambient beat. The liquid receded and was replenished. The ceiling tiles counted 55. And we rejoiced; sweet like apple martini's. (archives | details | blogger) Saturday, March 08, 2003 You rested on my hip bones, perched like a gargoyle on a window ledge. I prayed you were there to be a harbinger of hope, a protector of all that is glued and setting. Your limbs long and sinuous stretched out around my head covering the window light, shadowing me in a veil of obscurity. All angles and lines, I could not discern where your eyes looked. Your lips fell softly on the curve of my neck, my blood pounding through my veins away from all that is rational and sacred. What I had is not lost. |