Jul 112020
 

humid, salty long island air. fishing, crabbing… you said he always managed to get pinched by a crab. he seemed to love tempting fate. putting his hands in boiling water to take the egg out… letting the car drive home when he’d had one too many… packing your bags and delivering them to the front porch…

my head on your lap. sleepy. hot. the long drive home on the LIE… you got into a fight with him and got out of the passenger’s side to sit next to me in the back seat. i rested while you traced the side of my sweaty face with your beautiful fingers…

staten island childhood home. with its piano and turbulence. full of arguments and roses, Waterford glasses, and racist comments. i sat back on the lawn chair and closed my eyes. you surprised me with a quick kiss full of affection…and i believed you…

the first six notes, strumming guitar from ten years gone always tug at my heart, my mind, and trigger memories of long dark summer nights in your room.

“did you ever really need somebody, really need them bad?” “did you ever really want somebody, best love you ever had?”

notes and melodies, words, songs, linking us still. linking those molecules still floating residue of us, connected through space, despite time… those moments still exist. searing sun and sharp edges, moments that i can feel. before her, before them. we were…a tragic story that never got a good ending…

  2 Responses to “woman, i’ve got to ramble…”

  1. Thank you Yetzirah.

  2. You have a gift.

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.