Monday, July 2, 2012

Love by Eric Fischl

If this was love, she wanted a piece. 

As weddings go, this one had been relaxed, easy. 

Who skips vows? But she'd been relieved. They'd moved onto the beer. A lot of the guests waded into the water, she stayed on sand. 

Her feet burned slightly, her fingers grew numb from the chilled bottle. Nobody cut the cake.

She waited till sundown to leave. The party hadn't thinned. 

She carried the last bottle back to a disposal crate, said goodbye. 

If this was love, she wouldn't mind. 

Friday, March 9, 2012

waking up to renoir

There is a small Renoir poster, and I bought it so I could safely forget about it.

Can you dance?

If the lights are low,
And the room is spinning,

Spinning out of my hand
Into a whirl of hearts and limbs

Would you care to walk with me awhile?

Yes, please, if you'll take it slow and laugh at me and, a little at you
If you'll walk in silence, and talk only a little, if you won't scare me with intensity.
I can walk, but I get lost in my own thoughts sometimes, take it lightly
I'm terrible at storytelling, and gifted at bad jokes
But the stories get better when we've walked a little, when I've grown less conscious of you, receded back into me

You're awfully quiet today

I'm just sole-tired,
And winded from spinning around the room
I wanted to go home, just now
I just want it to be time to leave
So I can tell you what a great time I had,
And we'll meet again