Friday, July 1, 2011

This is All Wrong

On the way back home from the city yesterday, I think about how only now, now that you're gone, do I see our relationship clearly.  This is because it is over.  I am not in it, but holding it in my hand now like a box- not a coffin, but a present.

I stop in the drugstore because I have some time to kill and I'm going to buy a drink here where it's cheaper just like you always did.  But I also see a nail polish I like- it's the color of purple cement and the name (don't you love nail polish names?) is "Master Plan."  I decide I should buy it just based on that name.  Later, while I wait for the ferry back to Jersey, I sloppily paint my nails "Master Plan", believing in signs and plans and order.

But before that, while I waited for the shuttle back to the ferry, I envision you as I always do, walking towards me down the street.  But you're wearing a coat.  This is all wrong, I realize- it's July.

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