hello, readers & writers! it's monday again, the start of another week on write away every day; hope we can spend some of it writing and reading together : )
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today's photo writing prompt is another in the, ahem, san antonio series. (gee that sounds so important and official.) enjoy! writers, i'd love to read your short story, poem or creative non-fiction response to the picture; click on comments below to share it with us. readers, comments are open to you as well. see below for my poetic spin on the photo...
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was that you on christmas eve?
a blink and a double take
and you
- or maybe not you -
were gone
lost to me in a crowd three deep,
brushed past on the path
in your wool coat
going the other way
again.
are we perpetually bound
to pass each other
going opposite directions?
bound.
or don't you recall?
one to the other,
though of course we would
never make it;
james bond be damned.
not the way we intended to,
longed and hoped and planned and prayed to be.
but a person doesn't make vows like that
with all her might
only to walk away scot-free.
those bonds are cast
in heat,
and when taps sounds at the end of a very long day,
in the cool they turn to steel.
they become chains
and, together or not,
we two are bound.
intersect
at times.
and always in a crowd
on all saints day or
the end of may
or new year's eve
we are bound
to blinking and staring
and double takes.
so what if that was you
in your wool coat
brushing past me
on the path
going the other way again?
just, so what.
a blink and a double take
and you
- or maybe not you -
were gone
lost to me in a crowd three deep,
brushed past on the path
in your wool coat
going the other way
again.
are we perpetually bound
to pass each other
going opposite directions?
-
indeed we are -bound.
or don't you recall?
one to the other,
though of course we would
never make it;
james bond be damned.
not the way we intended to,
longed and hoped and planned and prayed to be.
but a person doesn't make vows like that
with all her might
only to walk away scot-free.
those bonds are cast
in heat,
and when taps sounds at the end of a very long day,
in the cool they turn to steel.
they become chains
and, together or not,
we two are bound.
-
our lives - if not intertwined -intersect
at times.
and always in a crowd
on all saints day or
the end of may
or new year's eve
we are bound
to blinking and staring
and double takes.
-
and then, well... so what?so what if that was you
in your wool coat
brushing past me
on the path
going the other way again?
just, so what.
Sniff! Sniff, sniff. There it is. Mingled with only four other similar odors, more familiar than the others by both frequency and intensity, elements of constructed smells and alien smells, at this time of month an added robustness, her singular aroma drifts on the air instead of rising from the ground. On this surface the trail of other's shoes too easily registers as hers, the small sole, smaller heel leaving less emanations to pick up so I'm forced to use the waftings of breeze to identify her path. Fifty, maybe sixty feet away my weak eyes see two potentials and the strength of the scent is about right for that distance. I pick up my speed, the essence blown beyond me now, only slightly moving my legs faster, weaving just a bit from side to side to find that smell again and finding nothing slowing down a bit, dropping my head, flaring my nostrils to sort out distinctly her shoes on the cobbles from the myriad others there, finding what may be hers, stopping to lick the spot, verify my find. Yes. She's been here. Resume sniffing at the air, moving quicker - people tend to walk straight along this kind of place, don't climb the wall or jump down into the water on the left. Catch it again on the air, she's closer than the last whiff showed, I'm moving faster than she is, the next fume should be stronger still, but the wind has increased some, there're fewer emanations here, and I am coming on a place she have might have left this path, turned and gone over the bridge. As I approach that point I see movements that I've come to know these past eight days, her body motions as she strides, that strange sway two legged creatures have, unique to each, of tumbling along, throwing the body forward and catching it with the other foot that makes them such easy prey. I've grown hungrier each passing day waiting for this breakfast, and know from experience the other biped there will only flee and scream. I've got her now; I leap.
ReplyDeleteWow! Two very different takes on a bridge in San Antonio I've crossed over many times. *Applause* to both of you. :)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful! I especially love the third stanza!
ReplyDeleteHave a great day, Demery!
~ Bess
Chuck - SPOOKY!! Thank you for writing with me, and for going a whole different direction from mine. That's what makes writing with others so much fun :)
ReplyDeleteLinda & Bess - thanks to you both for stopping in, and for your kind words.