A Letter to Ginger

Reflecting on a cherry moon

The rain is pounding – without mercy – on the dirty streets around where I live – the water is running along the chipped cement curbs and heading to some unknown place. I stand against the blonde bricks of the large building in live in and watch the pregnant drops bounce off the street only to fall back to the ground and – for the big ones there might be one more bounce. The sweat is burning my eyes – even mingled with the rain. The thunder sounds like a primeval shotgun blast into the heart of the sleeping city.

I was really worried that the kids might forget this moment – this slice of glory that will carry them through all of the bullshit that life will force down their throats. I walked with you across that parking lot and you laughed at the cherry moon. I wasn’t smart enough to remember all the things that were swirling around us. The kids scuffled along like bright sweet candy wrappers blowing across the empty parking lot. They buzzed with the excitement of what they had accomplished. I buzzed with you and the cherry moon.

I tried to explain to an old friend that you don’t always get what you deserve and you don’t always deserve what you get. This isn’t fair – but she and I are old enough to remember when things where fair – and we agree they aren’t anymore. As the rain began to fall hesitantly from the sky, I felt like a tired cliché about my tears – my sweat. There are times and ideas that are unspoken – but sometimes we try to force ourselves. I miss everyone who has ever loved me. Where are they tonight? Not under the cherry moon.

Friday, August 19, 2005

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