four dreams. pt. 3

my coffee was slowly getting cold, the summer nights were getting colder, sucking the warmth out of my half empty mug. i closed my eyes, i swear, for the first time that day. i could feel the cool breeze run over my closed lids, cool on what felt like burning skin. i'd spent the day out in the garden working feverishly, and admittedly foolishly, trying to save the last rows of summer color. whether a secret frost had come the previous night or perhaps some slow disease had been chewing them for weeks, i didnt know, but when i woke up that morning, there lay daisys and lilys and all manners of marigolds face down in the dirt. then, after no progress, discouraged, i left the rake and trowel in mid action in the ground and made myself dinner. now i was onto coffee and vodka. you had been gone for three days already, and i was looking for you in the bottom of every bottle in the house. but my concoction was now cold and i threw the remainder of it over the railing of the balcony, giving a patch of wilted zinnias a stiff, second-hand drink.

the whole city was growing cold, even the once friendly green plastic chairs were cool and unfriendly. smooth, lifeless and alien to my skin as i sat on one, feet on another. i remembered the times when we sat and drank good columbian or caught eachother's eye through a thick cloud of smoke and watched the lake. but now, you were gone again, and fall was quickly taking your place.

the curved lines of molded plastic and the not-quite-straight lines of the balcony wood looked ugly and ill-formed in this changing season. the crack down the back of the chair that held my feet smiled a crooked, toothless smile that taunted me with it's emptiness, and reminded me of my own, and it's green companion pressed chill into my skin. as i sat there watching the summer move away with you, maybe this time forever, nothing, absolutely nothing was right or good or in it's place or "fine".

i've left a lot of things behind to remind future generations that i have been here, music, writing, bones, and two cold green plastic chairs at the bottom of the lake.

click here for pts. 1, 2, 3 & 4 part one part two part three part four