So singular was their purpose — I wanted my friends to feel the weight of their
craving, but they were not present. They were hidden somewhere, pressed against a dark obsession with their position, they battled their worries from day to day.
I’m sure there is some scientific explanation,
but the idea of the clouds needing to let it all out is nicer.
Even storms need to pause and rest awhile.
I’m going to see my sis today.
She loves when I tell
her stories. [Laugh.] So I’m
wearing my fossil bracelet with
a chambered nautilus [66 million
years old]; Amber [I’ll make up
a date]; A shark tooth — not a fossil.
Always the same large cups, mine from Fretboard and his from Trailhead.
Always the same dance of the mugs, clinking the ceramic, the scalding first sip.
The coffee is a ritual of purpose, of togetherness.
Of starting a day, and taking on a responsibility for myself and another person.
Something I chose and continue to choose.
We were simpatico, mostly, except when you slipped into your father’s skin. Your dad and mom were hand in glove, you bragged. His hand, her pliant glove, I thought, but never said.