3 December 2006
‘TIL THE SHADOWS AND THE LIGHT WERE ONE…
Three days, three hours, three states. Fenway. Blueberry Ale and meeting Coco Crisp. A thick, juicy O’Sullivan’s burger. Legal clam chowder. A Harry Potterthon. New friends, new trains, new bridges, new skyline. A new breath to fall asleep to. New arms, new lips, new… but not the same. New anticipation and new disappointments.
New standards.
A new bed begets new dreams: restless, abstract, lucid and terror. All in three days.
No new love, just ghosts.
It occurred to me as I was passing through West Haven. I hadn’t been there in many years. I was reminded of the night we sat side-by-side on the jetty overlooking the sound. The air was brisk and you came underdressed. I came prepared, and when you shivered you were given my jacket. I was repaid with the kiss I’d wanted for two years. And then you took me to bed. You ruined redheads for me, I want you to know. They have all been compared to you, and you will forever be the juxtaposition by which they will be judged. From time to time I wonder where you are, where you’ve been and where you’re going. Consider this me reaching out.
And how could I not think of you? There is no sea. There are no other fish. And neither someone else nor someone better is you.
A new life. A new horizon to cross. A newfound silence: unwelcome.
