He brought me paintbrushes. That thoughtful young man. We pan grilled tilapia, slightly blackened with cilantro and lime. I mixed up boxed red beans and rice and sipped a glass of cheap wine.
What a moon tonight, drifting through the kitchen window, brilliantly calling my name. We sit on the front porch momentarily as she shines to the left of me. I greedily take that side of the stoop. Render me selfless, I beg of her, Render me in all that is love.
Across the street, curtains open, milling about shadows, two tall, one small, the little boy who waved at me when I pulled out of the drive the other day. He was pure silver smiles and waving hands, eyes that said, Connect with Me, and I did, cuz when that moment passes with a child, it feels like the purest Light. They are delighted by your face.
How many of them, on nights like these, sit unaffected, bustling in the self circle, television droning, watch on to see what the others are doing, manifesting madness, and I’m snapped back a bit as she whispers “Look at Me.”
I gaze at the reflection of that energetic sun, beaming on me like a celestial strobe.
“Look, Mom, a chemtrail.” he says, and the almost grown boy sees batman’s robe floating in the orb. the moment shattered as the chemical energy scattered, sky passengers transported, drifting sleepily across the sky.
she distracts my face, and we will it invisible, making silent memories before the day, shifting, I hold my hands into the sink to wash a dish, because it’s moments like this when I feel awake and terrified all in the same, but the anticipation outweighs the frustration.
I take moments that drift away when boys become of age, engulfed in the reality of what we fight to change.
“Let go. You can trust me.” She says, and things are as they should be.
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