Monday, September 14, 2009


She sees him, from time to time.

It used to be she would see him out late, too late, past caring. Ships in the night.

First, they pretended not to see each other. Over time, they came to accept one another, eventually nodded or even smiled. Finally there was a joy when they met, unexpectedly, they would stand together harmoniously at the back of a nightclub watching the circus of twenty-something glamazons play out before them. Two lonely ancients, growing older and lonelier still. A mutual recognition of likeness.

And as another year ticks over, things have changed again.

Now they don't meet in the wee hours of the morning. Now it is evening. Now they are sober, almost. New places. Less circus. The recognition, the smiles, they mean more now. Clocks are turning backwards.

Because the chemistry is not gone. If anything, it is more dangerous now. Nothing to blame it on. It is not circumstantial, this time. It's real.

And the future awaits.

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