Today, a man I thought I knew talked of reuniting with his Savior, and the purgatory between then and now. His well-worn groove sent me into the pits of hell while he pounded feebly at the gates of heaven, his old man without the Mud Bay mutt.
Another man I remember driving Golden Gate bridges for, flooded me with delight — for a moment, we are young, around the corner and back again in our Rainbow colors. Does he remember the night I met him halfway between the outdoor festival, oh the monkey lights!, and the pub maze inside? So much time, so much music.
The times I shunned your shallow make-up, now consume me. Where is my beauty? my childhood? my long-lost one true love? These toothless, Grimm fairy tales my mother threw away?
I watch my body fall apart while the handsome man in the tall black suit quotes Scripture, never once taking his eyes away from the chem trails. My translucent hands are an empty gesture, as he beats himself with his own quiver — diluted in her Delilah silk.
I’m dying why can’t you look at me? Look at me! Please, just one kind word.
“I am not afraid of death, for then I shall be with my Lord and Savior once more.”
Her flood, his blood from stone. I am the fallen woman on the last mile, he is the repentant disciple who scorned her graceless care the many moments of now reaching for the hem of His dangling robe.