Monday, February 21, 2011

frank horvat

i was going to say that it felt like we were never going to get old but that would be a lie because it didn't feel like anything except for a sensation of whirling... just a minute before we'd been complaining about the weather and how the sky was always gray and felt so heavy and how oppressive it was and then she leaned ever-so-slightly forward and our lips were touching and everything else, and i mean everything, dissolved into a mist of unimportance... by the time we broke apart again we were old and our children had left home and the garden was finally how i wanted it and all that was left was to wait...

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