spig waited with emily for her date to arrive. when he did, spig said "that's not him, is it?" knowing that it was. "it isn't. is it, em?"
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"i don't know," spig said. "he's got a minor mis-balance or something." em scrunched up her nose and said, "no, he doesn't. ha! shut up."
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"let's go" spig said. "we can't just leave" em said. "what about the coffee?" her date tapped the glass and smiled. "is there a back door?"
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he dragged off her chair and through the kitchen. the cook, nibbling on a block of cheese, said, "sorry." "it's not your fault," spig said.
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the screen door shut behind them. "what now?" em asked. a half-eaten block of cheese hit the rusty wire mesh and they both screamed.
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they ran till spig was out of breath--about 40 steps. he smiled at her, said "you love me." em squeezed his hand, thinking, if you only knew.
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spig's hair was black and mostly straight, except for a lone shiny curl, over his right ear, that she wanted to suck as if it were her own.
i do like this, walter... and, it is one of my favourite poems, too.
ReplyDeleteInteresting idea here, Walter. This is a beautiful poem. When I see it, I hear the Michael Hedges song that he composed around the poem. The studio version featured Graham Nash and David Crosby on harmonies. Hear is a youtube link to a live performance just prior to Hedges untimely death:
ReplyDeletehttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1QCz6K2F6w
Hope you enjoy it as much as I do.