Put your sweet lips a little closer to the phone
Joe and Audrey Allison
Let’s pretend that we’re together all alone
I’ll tell the man to turn the jukebox way down low
And you can tell your friend there with you, he’ll have to go.
A long time ago, there was I, sitting in the class, as 1998 moved into 1999. I remember that morning, and me making the date big and special, with the three nines festooned like balloons, drawn in pencil on my exercise book’s margin.
Time came in drops and drizzles, a wind rose, and a leaf carried the tale down another river, where there were anthills by the bank. They grew every year, even with the great gales and surging rains.
The hour of the waning moon lasted long enough, though. There were little twigs silhouetted in the sky, and seas in autumn nights. There was a lot of pain, and hardly any fear.
The rolling days came and went. One day the prophecy came true. The wind blew colder. The leaves didn’t gather in our garden like before. For a long time, it was very high and very dry.
Then the woods burnt out. Eyes no longer held meadows in their dreams, tarred roads came together in numbers, and parted too. The years still came with a new sunrise on the horizon, and when they parted, the ones that went before them left letters in their sunset clouds. I didn’t notice any more. There was too much dust on the windows.
Now you have come and gone. You didn’t mean to be liked, so I know you don’t mind. Now rest. We won’t be long. I’ll see you again.