Tuesday, October 10, 2017

I Still Smile (Day 265)

I still smile
When i think 
of you, I still feel
the key ring on my 
middle finger, biting into 
the tender neighboring flesh,
the weighty beige phone 
receiver in my hand.

I still see 
your face, tanned
and rosy-cheeked from 
the bitter cold, and how it 
paled beneath that particular 
shade of fluorescent light from 
overhead, drained of color, still 
glowing when, eyes flashing, 
you broke into one of 
your knowing smiles.

I still hear 
you talking, voice low
against the ringing soprano
chorus of crickets, when, on 
a slow night, we might find time 
to talk, to linger indoors, letting cool
air fortify us for our next foray.

I still feel 
the thrill of the walk
—through the dark streets 
echoing with roiling engines, ribbons 
of music, and laughter from the riverbank—
to your door, where my flat, dull evening 
would transmute into fireworks over 
the Vegas Strip, or, if you were out, 
into a cheap 10-watt bulb.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Photo: Lasvegaslover

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