What I know about love
There are many forms of impossible love. For example when the rain soaked streets are littered with yellow leaves. When a fine mist hangs in the air, and it is twilight and you are not here. And I am left only with the memory of the vulnerability of your naked body. How can this be? That in the whole universe of living, breathing things, I walk the streets and can only remember what it was like to kiss you. So far away from your lips, your hands, your face. But, this is what love teaches us. It teaches us to be patient. To be like the mountain enduring centuries of wind and rain, as time etches the story into the hard stone, and so high up only the gods can be certain of reading it, of understanding it—- because I'm down here on earth, bound by gravity, by my weight, by my feet on the rain soaked pavement, my head fairly floating off the stalk of my mortal body, oh love. There is nothing about you I understand.
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Other stories by Lillian Ann Slugocki
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Fave, Lillian. A lovely piece. For me, especially this long sentence:
"To be like the mountain enduring centuries of wind and rain, as time etches the story into the hard stone, and so high up only the gods can be certain of reading it, of understanding it—- because I'm down here on earth, bound by gravity, by my weight, by my feet on the rain soaked pavement, my head fairly floating off the stalk of my mortal body, oh love."
I can feel the passion in the absence of... But it's more than that, like the trumpet player's unreachable note.
A fine piece of work.
Great piece. Enjoyed, thanks.
Yes I love the long sentence too especially and also the last line. Really good.
Nice work.
"by my feet on the rain soaked pavement, my head fairly floating off the stalk of my mortal body"
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