Friday, February 28, 2014

Anonymous Friends

       I met a nice lady in town, but I forgot her name. She forgot mine as well. We still recognized each other in passing. Our greetings rang fondly, and the illusion that we were strangers disintegrated. Mid-hello, we experienced our discussion on forgetfulness again. We felt like we were reunited refugees. Once, we gutted our past together and displayed the innards. Then, we doctored them with laughter.

         The specifics escape me, but I know this: hyper honesty dove forward, before our hesitation could calculate the jump. Somewhere, we exchanged our names automatically, but our ears listened to our joined fogginess instead.

         I was her son without the discipline.

         She was my mother without the responsibility. 

         We’re friends minus the buildup.

        Kinship’s engrained, and often reserved. A friendship’s already activated, when 
worlds dissolve by shared words. Life’s just a reference.

“What’s your name again... again?” And she laughed. 

Submmited by Steven Leonardo Clifford

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