Category: 75 secrets
-
maytwentyeighteen.
standing at gulf’s edge, watching emerald waves roll in with the latest news, spread themselves at my feet, sediment for sandpipers, sun with an afternoon glare that sends cat paw clouds towards the horizon, where storms ring warning bells; still too far for thunder, replaced by the hungry reminder of jet engines, twin fighters that…
-
gift.
It wasn’t too far from this place that I saw my first coyote, she told her daughter, and I remember because it wasn’t more than a few minutes after that when I saw the river change directions. She felt her daughter’s eyes staring up from the six-year-old height of four feet, fingers locked into a…
-
at the gates.
sat myself outside. red steps. back against a closed door. cigarette. Jack Daniel’s. music still bumping, catching a row of bikes parked against the fairground fence. and what was on my mind… 6:25, here’s how the air feels on a perfect day, taste of a willow tree. sun at a lower level, some 71 degrees.…
-
ghost.
you know the ambivalent stride, path some three sidewalks wide. and while you found yourself fishing, waiting for what if, the rest of us were waylaid by we know, we’re reminded, we live with it now, and that clever little crease against your pillow face is going to stay, rupture, smiles on repeat, reemerging, until…
-
not just asking, this time.
when i was thirteen, i stood at the base of a wooden tongue, night, no rain, and watched as lightning plowed its fingers into the ocean, sand, touched down, and i felt the world drop away, maybe this would be the way to end things, convinced, i ran an entire mile, between purple bolts, lattice…
-
you had your year.
it’s not enough to revise any length of days or events in rewind. you were beating your head against the cemetery wall, and that was then, then now, and when an ecstatic snowfall of fireworks triggered the first smile felt in so long, that was then, then now, and if you think you can have…
-
wonderland.
Manny lost his thumb while carving initials into a Sunset Park sycamore on Christmas day. He had run from his house, boots crushing through a fresh snowfall north towards the hill. Streets empty, storefronts shuttered. Occasional fire hydrant peeking out from the drift, curious snouts wondering where the world went. From within his red skully,…
-
we lasted through winter.
i was sideways, asleep, or thought i was, between them, worried what if i would never feel this way again. morning just starting to peak. wouldn’t make its way through those blinds for a good bit, no use for the future. just an indication seeping in through kitchen windows. catastrophic gold. in love, two times…
-
sometimes they listen.
The evening played out in timestamps. Front lawn embedded with individual flat rocks, leading up to closed eyes, her fingers tensing, slick with grease, firm grip worried that if she didn’t dig in with her thumbnail, the present might pass. She thought about the kitchen, husband rolling his eyes and telling her that thyme was…
-
my friend.
i was sitting on a stranger’s futon, counting sheep, when one happened to wander from the fence. came on over and bummed a smoke. helped itself to some wine. bright white and so very cloudy. after an hour or so, i felt that talking to a sheep couldn’t be any more crazy than watching one…
notes from a never-was. 