I wake up and I don't know what surprises me more- the clock or the calendar. It is now
October, which means that summer is over. That makes two. Two summers without you and can feel time putting dust over my bruises. It is lessening my pain, but I resist it. I am annoyed that the time is passing and creating the distance between where I am and where we were.
Then .
The beachhouse. The
drive-in movies. The
Escort from hell. (Windows fogged and handles that would not roll down). Greasy onion rings that you held on eight fingers-
Go ahead, count!"
But it fades, like the ten minutes I just put on snooze- it does not pause, like my forgetful VCR. It is the opposite of that- it races ahead- ahead of me, and my memories and how I want things to be, how I want them to stay.
More time, another 6 minutes spent in bed staring at red numerals, clicking away another morning I should be working, or studying or giving the appearance of life.
I am going to have a hard time, I guess, explaining this next year- where this time went, how to account for the absence of life- this absence of things . I don't know what I have been doing with myself, other than waiting for the memory of you to slide away and get lost with the time I have been shredding. We lose weeks like buttons, like pencils. We have more than enough, until someone calls and we search frantically to take a message-
It was right here!
We have more than enough, until we have none and then we have nothing. All gone.