these thing? It’s just two nights. Toothbrush. Makeup. Sweater. Dress. Maybe jeans in case it gets cold at night. Warm fuzzy pajamas? Why not?
Soon I’ll be hugging her.
That last time we hugged she was dropping me off at DFW.
It was a just flash. She wasn’t even there for most of the time.
It was me, her dogs and her house. I spent a lot of time looking at all her things. The amazing treasures she’d collected over the years. Some of which were mine, from when I left.
It was me, just there, painting, and drinking the numbness in.
A bottle in my right hand and finger tips gently touching the tops of figurines; jaguar masks, a flannel jackets that was once in style…and will be again…and maybe already is.
Hand carved bone in the shape of elephants on top of the mantle that leans against the wall.
And a leather-coated jug with gold inlay and matching leather coated cups.
Furry rugs and weird curtain rods made from rebar and hung by tasseled rope and spider webs.
The sunlight made me think it’s warm. Pinwheels in the flowerbed spin fast enough for me to swim through their blades. Swim? I meant see.
I’m drunk, I think. On wine and nostalgia.
I’m glad I took my fuzzy house boots that time. They’re a little piece of home that warms my insides.
She still had that old suede couch and I remembered sitting on the white suede couch all those years ago when I was too high to focus on, what she was going on and on about. I was watching her lips through blurry stoned eyes then.
When she said “Like that.”
“What? Like what?” I said.
“Like that. She just stares at me when I talk, like you’re doing now.”
I’d gotten busted for not paying attention and being stoned. And looking at how pretty her eyebrows were and wondering why she didn’t tweeze them like the rest of us did. What made her so independent in our time in space? How could she be so insecure yet put her foot down about those brows?
She didn’t succumb. And I’m glad she didn’t because they framed her beautiful eyes so perfectly. Still do. Long lashes almost touch her brow bone. Were her eyes green?
I must be drifting again because I was just poked my head through to 1996 and now I’m at the airport hugging her hello remembering our goodbye and still have a bottle of wine in my right hand. I don’t think that couch was really suede. It must have been rawhide or it wouldn’t have lasted this long.
I could go on and on and on.