from the top.
“It’s always good to have a notebook with you.”
[this is your beauty. and you’re unaware of it.]
“I know. I carry one with me at all times.”
[did I just say that? but I actually do. what?!]
“A notebook’s good.”
[notebooks good. notebooks good.]
“Yeah. A notebook’s a good thing. (beat) So what are the notes you take?”
[don’t abandon me. not now. not here.]
“All sorts of things.”
[sun beating down. climbing a hill. a cemetery’s on top.]
“Any entries today?”
[climbing the hill in flip-flops.]
“Yes.”
[let me stay with you on this. we both need absolution, although it might not be obvious to you.]
“Like what?”
[say what you want but don’t say what I don’t want to hear.]
“Shopping list.”
[we’re in business. can I be drunk on shortness of breath?]
“That all?”
[I want to make this last and I don’t want you to know that. for reasons unclear.]
“Numbers.”
[we might’ve explored more. but for the heat and all.]
“What kind of numbers?”
[no return is guaranteed. and every departure is final.]
“Just numbers. Numbers I like.”
[bathed in honey. but then, honey is sticky. dammit.]
“Any stories?”
[coming down from highs unbeknownst to me before.]
“No. No stories.”
[I was swimming just a few feet away. bewildered by the depth and your vacuity.]
“Lunchtime you were sitting on the pier. Writing. Many pages. Wasn’t that a story?”
[a missed opportunity. words could help, but I’m doubtful. will you look the other way?]
“No. That was no story. That was a conversation that mighta taken place between two people. Mighta!”
[dirt under my… where did the flip-flops go?]
“Is that not a story?”
[I wish.]
“No. That’s an imaginary conversation.”
