If they can do it, so can I
So this was amazing. It was the middle of yesterday afternoon and I hadn’t even noticed the beginning of the crisp cold skyline creeping up on the tiny hairs of my neck. What could I say to the incredible feeling of forgiveness sliding across my shoulders, down my spine and wrapping around my thighs? Could I repeat the whispers they blew into my ear only at two the previous morning? Reminiscing would make me tearful with sweet exuberance and defiant blessings. I drew a long, thin cigarrette from the silver case in my stocking and trapped it behind my ear. It wouldn’t say a word — three inches. Four. So far.
Today it could have been a secret affair, not a breath worked into paragraphs of promises and lifted spirits. Too, too bad. It’s the start of a random compromise, a treaty with my broken soul in the sunshine.
