Monday, January 14, 2008

Picking through the pieces...


And trying to find the best. The ginkgo is an orphan, did you know that? Last of it's kind. Such a lonely beauty in that.

A while ago I saw a friend who hadn't realized how things had ended and she asked about you, her face as innocent and open as a silver dollar. How easy it was to smile and say it was for the best. I still reach for you in an empty room, but it's better this way. I hear your voice when the telephone rings; this is best for everyone. The world we created drifted away as easily as dust, you can't want any more than that. In my mind, I reach across an empty table to feel your collarbone like the strange sculpture of a wild genius; this is better, much better.

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