Flash Friday 4-11-14 Siren Call and Write an apology to an ex-lover in Flash Friday
- April 12, 2014, 3:38 p.m.
- |
- Public
By June parts of the Clackamas were too shallow for the canoe. You were hard and brown as a nut shell or whorl in knotty pine. We took the flat bottomed drift boat past the pool of plump bluegills and when we heard the distant sirens along the 224 you said you would need to tie me to the mast. Later, on the news, the lady with the hair and the pant suit said there was a three car pile-up on the 224 curves, two dead and two critically injured.
The afternoon we drifted but, by evening, in front of the TV, life moved too fast to grieve. It still does and I don’t know where you are. I lost track several months back and just relaxed into it; the losing track.
We had tied off a hundred yards before that quick surge where the water goes white down the rocks. We kissed and swam and had a sandwich and some water. The quality of green changed as the sun crawled through the upper branches. I held your face and you told me you were sorry. I smiled. I hadn’t thought to ask.
If I could do one thing different, that would be it. I would have said I’m sorry first and if you didn’t ask for what that would be fine and if you did I would say for all of this, I’m sorry for everything.
SweetMelissa ⋅ April 12, 2014
Love it.