Friday, June 27, 2014

Two short sequels

Sixteen years later

he walks down a hallway counting his steps
out of habit.  The polished wooden floor
reflects a comet tail spilling milky
from a tear drop light that plumbs the sink, splits
the glassy black slate of night. He fills
his glass come face to face with a geezer
framed on black velvet.  Parched but too polite
to take the first drink a toast is proposed
to break the impasse, “To the ravages
of time”, drawing hands across lips before
heading for bed, carefully retracing
his steps in the thin celestial dust.    

she unloads flower flats from the cozy
hatch of the car bought on a dizzying  
down and trade in of the emblematic
Marquis, aromatic as the walk in
closet before she jettisoned vacant
shirts and slacks, amusing herself briefly
with heady pangs of recognition real
or imagined, thrilling to place mismatched
Salvation Army bargain buys on some
tattooed lummox out for an evening stroll.
“High time I yank these muscling junipers”,
buoyant, inhaling lush perfumed palettes.

No comments:

Post a Comment