It was perfect, for I would live it all again, exactly the same way. The same conversations at the same time; the same distance and then the same closeness of our bodies as I hesitantly sat closer to you, and you let me be there near you. I would not change the manner in whichContinue reading “Perfect.”
Category Archives: Prose
Living.
It is quiet between us, and the parking lot is empty, save for a car in a corner (yours). I relax in my seat, sliding my hands under my thighs to keep them warm. I have said all that I wanted to say to you, I think. It is getting late and I should probablyContinue reading “Living.”
Nature’s wisdom.
You belong no where, Nature said.You do not belong to any family, for that creates walls with other families.You do not belong to any person, for that limits your connection to other persons.You do not belong to any church, for that causes separation from other churches.You do not belong to any country, for that drives fearContinue reading “Nature’s wisdom.”
The balloon.
She tied a knot and held the balloon at its tied end. She’d blown it up with her own breath, to a size large enough for her to hug it comfortably between her arms. It was a plain blue balloon, simple with no patterns or images on it. She walked outside, still holding the balloon,Continue reading “The balloon.”
Before the conversation.
“I’m going to tell you everything,” said she after taking a deep breath. They were sitting on the couch in the living room. It was way too hot to go outside, though they had considered going for a walk like in the good old days. One window was open to let in the breeze, thoughContinue reading “Before the conversation.”
The ritual.
With a swift movement of the hand, she cut off the thread. There, it was done now, ready for its death. She looked down fondly on her craft as she held it between her hands. It was a thing, a love-heart shaped thing (at least, supposedly), filled with foam to give it volume. The shapeContinue reading “The ritual.”
The old dog.
His insides rumbled. It sounded like metal kitchen pans and pots tumbling against one another. He got up, though it was night and the streets were empty, but he was hungry now, starving actually, and it was not the moonlight that would stop him. In truth, this battered old bony dog was always hungry, butContinue reading “The old dog.”
Words & Feelings 