Off the record, off the charts, off the books. Nothing is wrong with my memory. It tells me what I saw, how it was. You like a mirage through the rain. “I’m in a mood for you,” you sang, “for running away.” Sweeter words were never swallowed. I almost faded waiting to hear you again. But even your words shine through a dim day. The taste of you and the reminder of your touch remain. Never fading. Never growing old. Like in that perfect instant snapshot, clinging to a love that would always be a hallowed figure, dancing in the rain.
still standing
I’m slayed
amazed to still be standing
oh it was so worth it
the waiting
the anticipation
the hopes I kept
on the blackest nights
are dim now looking on
the other side
is a richer green tasting sweeter
the words I’m fumbling for
seem inadequate
not enough
the thrill of right now
washes over
and I won’t be able to look back much longer
clumsy
thoughts are coming slowly
there’s so much to say
it’s like skipping through syrup
getting tripped up by my own feet
falling over my tongue
no one wants to wait
to hear what finally comes out
they’re too busy laughing
at the spectacle I’ve made
change is in the air
Why it seemed different, she could not have explained. Watching the rays of sun as they danced through the leaves, feeling the crisp breeze that told of colder days to come, the day seemed so very ordinary. But in that place inside herself where she kept secrets, she felt the change unfurling. Kind of like looking an animal in the eye and feeling that basic connection. Sort of like knowing a storm is coming even when the sky is blue and cloudless. The same instinct rippled through her, letting her know to be ready. Change is in the air.
catalyst
“Have I lost you?” he asked.
“I was never yours to lose,” she answered. “Not really.”
He wondered how that could be when he had memorized the curve of her face and could decipher at least seven of her smiles.
She shifted in her seat, looking ready to bolt. He was reminded of a racehorse chomping at the bit to get out of the gate. But she was no thoroughbred. She was a very damaged human being. How could she leave?
“Where will you go?” he asked.
She stopped her scanning of the room and looked at him directly. She held his gaze a moment before saying softly, “Does it matter?”
He wanted it to matter. He wished the time they had spent meant something.
“Can’t we just go back and…”
She cut him off. “There’s no going back, just like there’s no taking back the things you said.”
“But don’t you see,” he pleaded, “those vicious words were not for you. I was full of those words before you came along. Those same words brought you to me. You’re helping me pour them out.”
She looked down at the ground.
He almost whispered, “Don’t you want to see how the story ends?”
She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears.
He crooked a finger under her chin and met her halfway with a kiss.
Gentle. Quiet.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.”
She wavered for another moment and then said “I can’t let you destroy me.”
“I won’t.”
They stood another moment looking at each other, each realizing they had put their heart in the other ‘s hands. Their heads full of stories, they turned and walked home.
The Word Rummager 