Cloud blanket holds and caresses the sound of a distant train . . .
Wait! What is that smell?! I'm souring, and not just my personality. Just caught a whiff of grandfather on me. Whoa! Come on, my diet's almost pristine. It's not hot inside. I'm not sweating. What's this all about? Is this a hint of future fragrance to come?
I haven't used cologne since applying Aramis (a hopeful dash or two) back in high school. It was a short-lived and ineffective attempt at utilizing an aromatic aphrodisiac. So, now what?
Susan and I have already been mumbling to convince the other it's time for hearing aids. (We have all kinds of bets with each other.) Must I now be perfumed? Or, patchouli'd? Egads! Muse-ician, smell thyself!
If I were an un-plucked flower
and your love, water and light,
what color my response?
What shades would attract?
Which scents repel?
What if misunderstood buzzing
within your garden grasp
was asking something of you?
Moving by custom
through daily routine
who recognizes the strange
yet familiar essence?
How does one know what belongs
in the ecosystem of an unfolding life story?
What distance must forever remain
between longing and belonging?
And, if I be longing,
where are you?
Near the beginning of our relationship, I spoke to Susan of my intention to change my more gregarious flirtatious ways. Soon after, I had reason to go to Chicago. A friend said his massage therapist's place would be available while she traveled. The timing seemed perfect.
Except that when I arrived, her trip had been delayed. We would be spending the day and night together. We went to the beach, talked a lot, shared a meal, got along well. She was attractive and, if I were unattached, someone I would have been interested in knowing better.
That night, as she undressed in front of me, she insisted her bed was big enough and whatever happened in it would be okay. Who would ever know? How could I resist? But, I did. Probably as much to her surprise as mine.
When I left Chicago, Susan and I met to take a trip to a remote spa in New Mexico. One afternoon, during a downpour, we sat on a covered porch watching the rain. We saw one hooded figure making their way towards the building. Upon reaching the dry safety, the hood went down and revealed the massage therapist. Just like that, there she was. Laughing inside, I introduced her to Susan. It was a comfortable moment, but what would it have been like if a different decision had been made that night?
With that in mind, and from a sensory safe distance, I decided to catch Susan up on my weird experiences with spontaneous language and the mysterious love letter I had received. I have no idea what is next, for me, or for anyone, but I knew I must take care of my bond with Susan.
When I finished my sincere and heartfelt sharing, she just looked at me, shook her head, and handed me this:
Dearest Darling,
YOU ARE READING
Who Dad?!
Science FictionAfter a revealing search for his birth mother, Lee declined to pursue the paternal side of the story. Little did he know how the fate of the planet itself was wrapped up in his own star-crossed origin. Only through the unexpected appearance of an al...
