Originally published in Catch Up With Summer, a collection from 2015.
Pour boiling water over the ice cubes and
they will disappear immediately.
You can count on it. If only I could
make the memories do the same. Laughter
echoes up the stairwell. The stone steps
bounce the sound in a most efficient way.
The woman sitting next to the window
left when I was not looking. She sat
in that chair for ten minutes and
now she is gone. The laughter continues from
downstairs. It’s an unpleasant sound
to listen to. The lawn outside the window
is substantial and is mowed in diagonal stripes.
I see no one outside. The day is too hot.
Voices funnel up the stairwell, rise and explode,
fade away. Fireworks for conversation.
Good-byes are said. Water thrown on the sparks.
It was time for it to be over. I concentrate on the
calm celery color of the walls in this room.
Updated institutional paint. I wish the memories
could be painted over.