Maybe the Sun
Looked like it would stay forever in the sky that day. Maybe the man on the porch and leaning against the house and staring up at the sky was hoping that it would. Maybe the woman standing next to him looking at something else told him he has until dark and then she’s gone. Maybe a strange couple drives by at just that moment, oh darling, let’s see if that cute young couple is looking to sell. Maybe the wife loves the hefty sureness of the door, solid and oak, and the way the light of the day is burned into it. Maybe the husband grips the steering wheel and thinks a new house could be a new start. Maybe the wife would forget his affair. Maybe the husband pulls into the driveway to see if the house is for sale. Maybe he walks up to the couple on the porch. Maybe the man on the porch likes the idea of selling the house. Maybe he and the woman need a new start away from this house where they lost the child — the child that left that one silent bedroom, third door down the hall. Maybe the house got too big after that. Maybe the hallways inhaled one big sorrow sigh and never let it out. Maybe the man takes the offer and the two men shake on it, the way men do. Maybe the sun will stay up just a little bit longer now. Maybe the man says to the woman let’s try again, meaning everything. Maybe the woman thinks maybe.
Ten Years After 16
Jimmy P is knick-knack-knocking at my door. I thought this was over long ago. We are grin-gran-grown, far from that shush-baby-shush on the sweaty tar roof above the deli next to the high school where he tick-tack-took my V even though I told him I was saving it till marriage. He was ha-ha-ha, fed me tequila, and brick-brack-broke up with me very next day. Something about young, and freedom, and I just better lin-lan-learn that shit now. And ever since that night, it’s been this one and that, a jim-jack-john of boys, of men, how boys will be boys, and men will be boys with their ratty goodbyes, the wish-wash-whoosh of how quick they disappear and what does Jimmy P want, oh now that’s a question even I know the answer to. The answer I don’t know is whether I will open the dee-die-door to Jimmy P or not.
Image by Dan Cook on unsplash.com, licensed under CC 2.0.
- Maybe the Sun and Ten Years After 16 - April 22, 2025