August 07, 2010

Log Out My Love

Every time I wear this jacket I am reminded of that night we danced up foggy steep streets waiting for the bus. Each time I put it on I hope you will appear like a ghost or apparition, I sit in wait, I wait and hope. The warmth of my jacket is nothing compared to the warmth I felt as we held hands on your sunken couch. I’ve kept these memories sacred, cherished moments when I am walking through fog and am reminded of the way you looked in my eyes, the way you assured me of your wiseness. If only I had known my heart would still feel these flutters long after those February days had gone, I may have taken it slower, I may have suggested another venue but maybe it wasn’t place but time that confounded the circumstance. Your bright eyes and sharp wit were no match for my want to swan dive into love with you, with someone close to nothing I had known before and yet too close to everything I know. Now my want for these wishes to be realities is out pegged by the reality that I have cornered myself into love with everything I know and can’t have. To this end I will wear this jacket with the fondest of memories pinned to the lapel like the red plaid bow you liked so much and wait for your ghost to materialize before me for another night of wine soaked dreams to be lost in fog and smoke.

2 comments:

Doug said...

In my day, wine-soaked dreams brought their own fog and smoke.

Rio said...

yes i think they still do