When i first see him he looks good, but is very bearded and I overhear him saying he's heading for the Yukon. Not long after I see him again (in a library where a local musician is playing in the lobby; the performance is broadcast on pbs and it looks fun on screen, but in the lobby where he's playing its just me in my sweats, watching it all on my laptop. Quite dull). Later, my friend approaches me most directly in a nook of the library. He is quite truly a vision - his skin so young: kind-of blue and peach and gold, his face clean-shaven, his hair a radiant gold. I try to minimize how schleppy I feel I've become and find myself telling him that I regret just being friends, that I regret not realizing he would have been the best for me, the kindest by far. I didn't know he was so beautiful. Just as I speak the connection vanishes and it is clear he will remain with his dutiful wife. Moreover, he has my dog who is still alive, still my beautiful Zoe. She's gone up and down the stairs with him so she must be okay. I lay down with her and curl around her huge body, her heavy head flopped over my arm - just for a second exactly as sweet and bonded as it used to be. My friend goes home eventually with his family of now three children and my dog is following after on the street. I think she is looking for me but I can't be sure.
I can't tell if I am recognizable.
I have no idea if I have mattered at all.
No comments:
Post a Comment