The past: tiny wicked fingers

300 words a day entry fifteen

That twitter picture of your plants in the front room bothers me because I recognize it all now from a three dimensional walk through, dream-like, heat wave, time spanned, stood still, went too fast and now I know that the golden light maple stairs are to the right and at the top the master bedroom with the king size four poster bed with iron curls and blue sheets that have seen more lovers than love and watched planes take off and land all night through the window and I think I noticed one afternoon when you followed me up there that your watch was a Rolex but it didn’t impress me until just now when I thought about it, how it was laying there on the dresser with some cheap silver rings and I wonder who those rings remind you of because you asked for one from me because, “I don’t know when I’ll see you again” and I wonder what would go through my mind if I saw pictures of you wearing a ring I bought you when the pictures of some pink plant and cactus that was out on the back deck that have been brought into the front room make me feel like this I wonder what would a ring do. I make smoothies in my food processor, remembering your anxiety attack when I took the blue based blender down off the microwave and put some peaches from the mom and pop grocery store in and some ice and a banana and brought it to you and cleaned the kitchen while you played on that stupid phone of yours, ignoring me…how I picked up the gloves you left on the stairs that lead into the family room where I left my things and out into the back, past the washer and dryer, out the door where I swept the leaves from last fall away and where I forgot to say goodbye, because I thought that I would see you again. You told me you loved me more than once, you told me I said things to you that were more perfect than anything anyone had ever said to you. Well you are my muse, but like an almost empty tube of toothpaste, I squeeze the last bit out, it’s still good, but it’s almost gone.

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  1. #1 by aleaorr on October 13, 2009 - 2:22 am

    I really really really really really really REALLY want to apologize for the toothpaste analogy, but I like it too much to take it out. I’m dealing with it.

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