She calls from nowhere, her voice Kalashnikov-insisting.
‘We have to meet… same place as usual’
She never give me time to refuse.
As I walk from my apartment I realize that it rains again. Streetlights reflected in wet cobblestones, reek of dog and stale tobacco brings back the day we met.
I believed that you were crying, but today I know that the sheen on your cheeks was only rain.
You are like the wet street, merely mirror.
You stand, looking vulnerable, outside the Irish Pub under an umbrella. Moon-pale blank you stare at me. Silent, slowly comprehending:
We were just lovers never friends. Your shoulders slump and the drizzle seeps into my sweater as we go in different directions
Down the imperturbable street, step by step something arises as my past is decomposing,
It stops raining. No necromancing can wake her ghost again.
We write prosery with Merril at dVerse today and the challenge is to write a piece of prose of no more than 144 words incorporate the line “We go in different directions down the imperturbable street.” from the poem “An Aspect of Love, Alive in the Ice and Fire.” by poet Gwendolyn Brooks.
June 8, 2020