Saturday, 1 August 2015

august walks with the memory of july

If I could only follow back along the crooked line of life, crickets keeping time, to see all the faces of the ones and when I loved them most, then stop upon a snapshot at the point where it was mutual. If I could I would deposit each Polaroid in my aching head and let the neurotrasmitters have at them, relocating the silver base beneath the image and then spreading like chain link jewels across the synaptic mind, so sparkling are the tears that fall in almond globes upon my clothes or to the ground without a sound, then break apart with me from my reality, back to better times between us. Those times are gone. Tonight with coffee cupped in my hands like a prayer, I can go back there and see us coupled out across the diverse cities of my life. Chicago. St Pete. Boston. Oakland. Evanston. San Francisco. I was younger then but in many ways I feel the same. A button. A shred of clothing. A letter. A wisp of hair. I wonder do you mostly feel the same also? It only takes one residual thought, a flash of silver and the faith, to move the holotropic mind along new pathways recreated of the fabric we once wore out together. Then we may have a chance tomorrow to walk with one another in our hearts and live again.