Monday, July 7, 2014

Leaving Rhode Island: The Snowflake



You wouldn’t think you’d miss the snow, but…

One day you’re on a beach
After being on a beach
Many, many days in a row

And a cool breeze—not even cool, but cold
Runs across your back

You turn over
To see if maybe somebody was being funny
Blowing on you
Trying to get you to shiver

And there’s nobody there

There’s nobody anywhere—on the beach

And next to the sketchbook you brought with you
The letter
Permitting your return

Then you notice something on the letter
A snowflake

A real one—not paper
Not some simple arts and crafts project

Snow

You touch it
And it disappears instantly
It melts as soon as your finger reaches it
As it was never there in the first place

The only proof of its existence
Resting in the little water marks
On your letter

You think to yourself
I miss the snow…sometimes

You think that you won’t
But…you do

You do miss it

You miss all sorts of things
You didn’t think you’d miss

You kissed me
And I disappeared
I melted
But did I leave anything behind?
Did I make an impression?
Did I mark you in any way?

I guess I would have had to stick around
To find out

Like being at your own funeral
Seeing the way you worked your way
Into someone’s heart

And like that snowflake
Wondering, how you ever got there
In the first place

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