Thursday, September 1, 2011
The Side We Chose
I saw what I perceived would later be identified as a bear. Scored rocks on the trail, fallen tree limbs pointing (I'm pretty sure) South. A note in which one reveals a little. Or, as Ms. Stein would say, a very little. It's late or it's rain. It's a Chesire cat smile, is what it is. Your booth at which manicures are offered was lit by the sun and more crowded than we'd expected, given last week's numbers. This would be a nice line in a poem. Let us compare apologies. Or did I mean to say anthologies? Masks made in advance are not helpful. There is a time to meet and a time to decide to meet. We hesitated and while I mused on the beauty of birch trees at that time of year you whispered, "he who hesitates, masturbates." That yes too. We lit matches and inhaled and it was love though we never used that word in those days. It was a line on the beach and on the side we chose, can we say it that way? The past is a meatball sandwich wrapped in wax paper and carried home for lunch without a great deal of reflection on meaning. The future ricochets, bleats, it's falling crosses everywhere. I write that I would and I did. Laughing with you a last time was sufficient, it was more than sufficient.