Saturday, November 17

This little scrap of word-age fell out of a sketch book I was thumbing through the other day ago. I have no clue when I wrote it but I kinda liked it.

On the missing

Some days we wonder how the other story laid itself out. Our stories- divided upon our separation- become invisible to each other and we wonder: Did they lose sleep? What do they think about when they are alone? Do they still prefer tea to whisky? Why did they neglect to say goodbye? When others- innocent bystanders passing us by on the street, train, or car- see the other side of the story. I want life to be like a doll house.

posted by Jenny Saturday, November 17, 2007

0 comments