June 12, 2009

  • This evening is so warm and lovely, and unusual in early June.  The orange evenings cease to hug a body gently at this time of year, and given the French kiss of humidity earlier this week, I much prefer the gentle summer peck.  The clouds look especially broken as blue bursts through white cracks.  The birds love it- you can hear them laughing to each other in tall trees.

    The wedding looked like this, at least in the pictures.  Yes, of course I looked, but now not for him.  I have known and not known so many things about us for so long.  Rather, I looked for me.

    A friend told me yesterday in his own unobtrusive brilliance that he once fell in love with someone, a part of that someone, whom he has never seen again.  So brief were their interactions together, so poignantly she touched him.  She is in total ignorance of his feelings, and he cannot forget the her that was.  I know that the man in these photos, whom I have lamented in my quietness, is not there any longer.  He has traded that man (perhaps smartly... who now can say?) for another built into another woman. 

    I am in love.  Not with you, Jon.  I wish you the best. For all my uphill clawings, I cannot remove you gently as you did not afford me such luxury.

    I am sitting on the porch, eating a brownie of chocolate sunshine, waiting for my love to kiss me like the gentle breeze to the laugh of birds in tall trees.