* * *
i was waiting above the train-tracks, leaning against the rimy seashell bridge. it wasn't anything specific - simply a pause, just a moment of discontinuity. & the woodsmoke moon on undersided october leaves, a sensation of empty distance, of side-stepping parallels. i was thinking of the word 'audacity,' the imaginary crickets, & a feathery tabby had wrapped itself around my ankles. (i have become the girl who is curiously, consistently followed by cats.) a book of new stories in my bag, the sounds of fall music & no mittens. down by the northwest arm, the water is all stillness & barnacles. are you ever made from papier-mache wings? i was other places & i didn't notice.
"are you okay?" asks the woman, leaning out from the darkened passenger seat.
she looks at me with concern. she is wary, full with the caution that small creatures will move suddenly & against your expectation. the man beside her has one hand on the steering wheel. he is already reaching for his phone.
i smile and say "yes," but it's the absurdity of the moment, mixed with the sudden feeling that offered proof is impossible.
when i woke up this morning, i made coffee & counted the polka-dot-tar-spot turning leaves of the backyard maple. i was still thinking about the strange distances of concrete.
she looks at me with concern. she is wary, full with the caution that small creatures will move suddenly & against your expectation. the man beside her has one hand on the steering wheel. he is already reaching for his phone.
i smile and say "yes," but it's the absurdity of the moment, mixed with the sudden feeling that offered proof is impossible.
when i woke up this morning, i made coffee & counted the polka-dot-tar-spot turning leaves of the backyard maple. i was still thinking about the strange distances of concrete.
1 comment:
this is lovely. would you let me make a few edits & publish it in the next issue of HRM?
we should speak soon about that, & everything else, over tea & fig preserves.
love,
h
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