sit, sit


I want to be sitting somewhere. I want to be sitting somewhere with you. Somewhere as the sun yellows down to orange, and night leaks blue then purple into the sky, like ink into a glass of water.

We’re somewhere by the sea. It’s hot—summer. Or maybe a late day in February somewhere up north. Crisp, when sunsets come and go quickly so you have to pay full attention or you’ll miss them. Two ordinary chairs side by side, forest green, or no color at all because they’ve lived out in the hard weather for years. Or a bench, maybe, a bench.

You are telling me a story I’ve never heard before about your childhood. Your voice is quiet, but also alive with humor. Your hand is on my arm. I am grinning. I’m grinning because it is you talking and your story is good and I know soon we will have a wonderful meal where the food and talk will be equally good.

Afterwards perhaps we will return to these chairs by the sea, or a forest, or the mountains, or by nothing important at all to listen to the night, as dense and black by then as the inside of a closed drawer.

And you will say. And I will say.

That is all I want on this foggy evening.

Happy Birthday, Alexis.

(paraphrasing J. Carroll)


About gangcentral

My name is (actually) Gang. View all posts by gangcentral

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