I want a conversation-

not its shadow, communication.

Clockwork

Blair sat in the living room, attempting to read the newspaper. Above the mantelpiece hung a recently inherited clock. The clock ticked mercilessly, reminding him of the eternal wait for death. The pendulum inside waved back and forth, incessantly fighting and accepting the pull of gravity. Gears driven my inevitability, culminating in that maddening tic-toc. Blair gave up on reading his newspaper and stared at the antique. A gift to the family via his wife's father. It had been in their family for what was now six generations. Won in a bet against a traveling gypsy in New York, it had moved from a poor immigrant tenement to a respectable apartment to a penthouse on the Upper East side over fifty years. Stella's grandfather inherited it the year he decided to find his future out west. He only made it to Omaha, and it was there the clock found itself moved. From there it had bounced around various Midwest suburbs until this last week, when Stella's father had died and bequeathed it to her and Blair. And so there it sat, unaware of the last hundred years, only knowing the back and forth of motion and the twisting torque of gears. The gears stopped for a moment and Blair decided to pick up his paper. Barely opening the pages it chimed noon and started ticking once more. The paper found itself crumpled up in the fireplace as Blair stormed from the room looking for another distraction.

Ain't no stars-

in Brooklyn.

Moving Day

I close the door behind my friends, thanking them for all the help they put in today. I grab the empty beer case and stuff it in an empty box nearby. I stand and survey my new apartment, a basement level. I can already smell the mold and water damage. The rent is hard to beat though, especially this close to downtown. I plop down on my couch, a remnant of my college apartment. There's a bump under by back. Weird, it was still in fine lounging condition before the move. I roll over and look. Of course, it's Greg's phone. Must have fallen out when he rolled over the couch to grab a beer. Maybe he hasn't left yet. I open my door to head upstairs and check. I am stunned by a raven haired goddess in the stairwell. I can't help but stare; it's been almost a year since I had a girlfriend. What I would give to pray at this girl's altar.

I walk up to her. “Hi there, I'm Nick. I just moved into room A.”

She smiles, her teeth are amazingly white, they glow like marble. “Nice to meet you. I'm Nicole; I live in room B. I guess we're neighbors now. So what brings you to these parts?” She tilts her head slightly. Her eyes catch the light and sparkle.

“Oh y'know, I just got hired at Prospect and Co. About three blocks north of here, know them?”

“Yeah, I work in the coffee shop right across the street.” A barista. I bet she's tuned into the local music scene, or art scene, or … whatever local scene.

“Oh, so I suppose you might be sick of coffee. Damn, I was gonna ask if you wanted to get some this week.” She giggles. The horn players of heaven would be jealous to hear that sound, and it'll soon be all mine.

“How about we go to Quincy's instead. It's a bar right up the street, maybe you've heard of it?”

“Yeah, we passed it on the way in. Friday at seven sound good?”

We hit it off. We kiss on our second date, the faint taste of cherries linger on our lips. Soon after, we move in together. The sex is amazing. I see her lithe form in my bed, in her bed, on the couch, in the shower, out in a field. We have a summer wedding, the scent of raspberries floating on the wind. It's just us and the priest. We invite our close family and friends to the reception later in the week. We honeymoon in Paris, then wander around Europe for the rest of the year. We find jobs, settle down in Amsterdam, then we would...

The sound of metal on metal jars me from my thoughts. She's opening the door to Room C, down the hall. She looks back at me. Arched eyebrows, pursed lips. Oh god, I know that look. Shit, I must have been staring at her when I zoned out. I blush, look down at my feet, then quickly scale the stairs. Fuck, I hope Greg isn't there, I need an excuse to get out of this building.

Old Paris

Afternoon heat drives people from the streets to their homes.
I sit in the shade of a downtown cafe.
I haven't been here for almost ten years
I shared wine with a wonderful girl.
We talked of Eliot and Virgil.
Afternoon light almost like today.
I finish a bottle.
Search the bottom.
No luck.
Pity.

A Haiku

Bodies are simple
Choices made are more complex
A great weight to bear

While traveling upon a road one day

While traveling upon a road one day
Off in the distance I spied a cool river.
Yet my final landing lay not that way
Not once from my path was I to quiver.

Years later I found myself there a-gain.
On the path next to the cool sweet water
The summer sun burned with no sign of rain
My urge to swim rose, the day grew hotter.

Still I was content to simply enjoy
Its beautiful presence rather than taste
the refreshment within. I remained coy
until once more I found myself displaced.

Yet, sweet river, would our paths cross again
I would not tarry to indulge within.