Mark Windham
A Table for TwoI requested a table
for two – something quiet, intimate – where we could be alone … with each other. The mood was right the lighting perfect the food excellent the service superb Her eyes swirled like the spoon stirring her coffee, and never met my own. I requested a table for two, but at no point were we ever alone... with each other. Sea Creature
I find her shoes
on the dunes – discarded frivolities fusing with the landscape – then follow her footsteps to the water where the gulls dance around her head – screeching and snapping at the bread she throws – while gravity makes plans in the seabird’s shadows. She sends the remaining crumbs into the waves like an offering, as if she can sense the sea’s need for sacrifice. She has always been a creature of the shore, the taste of salt in her words and a thread of ocean breezes in her breath. Night Watcher
There is something missing
between the cricket songs and the croak of the frogs, an emptiness where once the night was full. It was some time before I recognized the absence before I understood the differing degrees of silence. I have been watching the house for many nights, the movement of shadows from room to room. The lights no longer stay on all night, darkness regains its dominion a bit earlier each evening. The figures behind the windows are no longer restless and I am able to identify the absent sounds… there is no pulse pounding in my ears, no breath to form whisper mists, and cries no longer echo through the house I begin to fade. Soul Absent, Heart Undetectable
Oh, it will be uncomfortable,
a cold hard table — you never did like the cold — and bright lights…no where to hide. Layer upon layer will be revealed, there will be no secret you can conceal, no mystery to remain hidden. But you should not worry, in the end it will be a futile exercise. There is no way to cut from you that which you never had. Arguing in the Dark
She
prefers serious conversations be held in the dark. With the light out you must judge the other’s emotions by touch and the pace of their breath. One becomes less concerned with conquest trying to sense smiles or tears in the dark. |
Ripples and ReflectionsIt is fitting my time should end
in this place and this season, with the waters calm and the colors fading. Spare me the musty embrace of earth’s last grasp, or the ashy kiss of a final fire. Instead, place me in a boat and push me from the shore beneath an afternoon sun, so that I may float among the reflected leaves until nighttime falls. May the ripples of my passing bring more joy than those of my life. A Regular CustomerWe all recognize him — tips well,
never rude or demanding, nothing complicated in his order — when he comes in, by himself late in the afternoon. He sits at a table facing the sea and takes his time ordering. The food may be different — today it is oysters – but he always drinks red wine. The surf holds his attention, and I often notice him following the progress of the beach walkers as they fill the void between land and waves. It is rare for him to have more than two drinks, always saving the last swallow for a toast to the sunset before he leaves. Today, there is no sun, and the storms in his eyes are a perfect match to those on the horizon. Shades
Sometimes
I remember before the world became shades of grey. I remember she wore yellow when days were warm, the sun worshiping her glow. Sometimes I remember the sight of her smile behind the veil in the moment before we wed I remember every time she wore red high heels – beautiful already, with no need for adornment, seeking attention she rightfully deserved. I remember the last time I was able to look into the crystal depths of those eyes, glistening, as she searched for reasons to stay. Sometimes I remember before the world became shades of grey. Fangzi Mian
It is difficult to decide
between the complex flavors of the house noodles and the fire of the spicy chicken. She was the first -- a rare beauty in an east Texas town -- with burning desire and a rebellious nature. She searched for something the boys who surrounded her could not provide. She tired of me faster than the fill of the lo mien fades, or the fire of the sauce subsides. Lately, I order the noodles more, preferring to savor the layers of life embedded in each bite. Occasionally though, there is still an appeal to the heat. Places
Turning pages in the park,
a bench upon to rest, a breeze to spill leaves. Thunder spews from the heavens, shimmering sheets of rain obscure the horizon. Camping on the curb at midnight, watching the jets come and go. An afternoon on the porch Steps while stories grow as long as the shadows on the yard. I have found no place where there is no memory of you.
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