We vowed we’d be friends forever, who could know how fast we’d drift. You into the arms of that gangly boy, his quiet ways far removed from your dad’s fierce bellows. when our kid noise woke him midafternoons, back sore, brain numb, from night shift at the aircraft plant. While I discovered books that teased me with worlds I meant to claim. Michelangelo’s David in polished marble. Parisian cafes and the odor of strong Gaulloises, red flags flying in Beijing. I left you there, in that so small town. If I returned, would I find you. the incarnation of your mom when we stopped to see her at R&S dress factory. Steam rose from hot pressed cotton
Posted on: Mon, 29 Jul 2013 07:59:08 +0000
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