Garrett Speller
A memory of someone long gone and a haiku we wrote together (a haibun)
My mind winks back a few years into the past, minutes and hours ticking backwards, letting grandfather clocks suck up their chimes, pendulums fervently swept backwards until the moment itself, empty, lifeless, like leaving a meeting before the bells ring, seeking an exit before you’ve even been dismissed, the red light of the signs hanging in the hallway, too sweet a temptation. I had admitted that I loved you, unfortunately, far too many days ago – and it appeared that you’d forgotten already because your roommate was calling you and you had to go – it was late, the lanterns on the street winking on and doors cast open, welcoming. But not to me, not anymore, the lights of the living room inside just a spotlight, dancing over shadow, over the concrete of the sidewalk as I wait, and – I’ll be gone, done waiting for you, gone — gone for the appreciation of glory, and when the sun meets the dawn’s morning sky. My mind suck s, fervently empty, lifeless, like seeking a light , a temptation. I loved you for too many days and you’d forgotten because you you had to go – lanterns wink and doors cast welcoming lights of the living room dancing shadow over the wait you, go – – go for th and meet the sky. fervent e y es , like seeking light , many lanterns cast ing shadow over sky. |
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