When she was a girl, her world was shaky. Her father had left them and the mother, well, she needed those meds to keep her brain clear. Instead, the mother shoved them down the drain and listened to the gurgle of the disposal. It seemed to match the hush...
You were always there, around a distant corner, the far-away man, in the back of my mind. As my sister lay withering away in a hospital bed, it was you, with those ice-blue eyes, always smiling, that wit, your spark. I could see all of you, still. You wer...
Dear Sam, I watch the June bugs crawl around as the fireflies float and light up my porch. It makes me want to let go, give in and be free. Part of me wants to tell you, you do light up this tiny space, my world. Your humor and compassion, that coolne...
For that is the question, isn’t it? I don’t know who you are anymore. Once, you were the guy, my carefree man with those sea-glass colored eyes and that laugh. Oh, the way you could make me laugh. We used to sit outside on a blanket in the p...
It’s 3 o’clock in the morning, and her creative brain is racing, racing once again. The house is soundless and dark. During those lonely hours, that dreamy state, she finds herself talking to Maya Angelou, the master poet, the one who possesses language,...
In the watered down version of you, you are merely an acquaintance not the love from my youth. In this version, you are smaller with those thin hands that keep slipping through mine. And, yes, you still speak with a bit of a southern accent, but it’s not...
Jacob calls me in the afternoons, around three to make sure I am out of bed. On this day, I am groggy, but I still answer. “Let’s go have a margarita at that Mexican place by the gallery tonight,” he says. “Not yet. OK?” “Oh, come now, Jane! They have gre...
They called you King Edward. You were King of your ground. Whether we were lonely, joyful, worn-down, or heartbroken, riding down the highway of life, with a switch of the radio, you could fill days with illusions to match any mood. There were colors spi...
You weren’t always a ghost, sometimes a bit distant or “emotionally reserved” as they say, this easy, strong, quiet presence. Six feet tall and suave, you with the crazy wave in your hair, fierce dimples, a hint of gold around your pupils, all of it. You...
It’s 4 AM. My mother wants to drive. There’s nowhere for us to go, but she wants to tell me about Jesus, the devil, and music. It’s summertime. I don’t get to go to school. She has turned the radio knob up as high as it will go, and the sounds of pianos,...
