while walking walks they walked
alone he lost himself in a reverie a slick barrage of endless celluloid-memory
spinning clickclickclickclick
through
his brain on quicksilver spools he was unaware he was even walking until the pitch of the asphalt driveway he lived atop a hill in a small bungalow foreshortened his step and plucked him out of his musing
they held hands as they walked
they often stopped to
embrace kissed warmly
he cupped her lovely ass in his
hands
she didnt protest
the windows of the homes along their
evening walks flickered with the bluelight of television sets flat screens and blatantly
affirmed what he told her whispered in her ear as he held her No one is going to be gazing out their windows
at us he didnt say because they didnt have it in them to
escape the televised narcotic that lulled them bleakly irreversibly into the passivity of aimless chattel though he did say be aware of the suffused honeylight lamps lighting the bookmarked or dog-eared
pages of social misfits and voyeurs those sly readers
while walking alone before he realised he
was walking he absently turned his head and gazed into his shadow cast beside
him
in it he saw her
he saw her walking with him matching him stride for stride
her proud head forward
her hand reaching out to his
he reached to hers
and grasped nothing
nothing
she was gone
1624, Monday,
16 1. 17
Day-between-Two-Ts
afternoon, 18 1. 17
1654, Friday,
20 1. 17
Buffy Sainte-Marie Hes the Keeper of the Fire https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7FfjBNOqiI
