The mariner’s dog
She stares into the sea. She spots a speck and hopes it’s him. They shake their heads and walk by. She’s been here for ten years now.
She stares into the sea. She spots a speck and hopes it’s him. They shake their heads and walk by. She’s been here for ten years now.
Birches line the snow swept highway. Beyond my headlights they lurk, they leer. Bony fingers beckoning. I comply, listing to their arms.
Christmas music fills the air. The elf frolics and dances to happy applause, but she’s not happy. The men drool, and the metal pole is cold.
He repeated his name for her, but she simply stared ahead, motionless. He watched their past disintegrate behind her eyes.
The bar was empty. He drank between sets. She came up to him and slid her panties beneath the bar: “Do you remember Red Rocks?” He lied.
When winter comes, the pigeons have gone and only one lover sits. The park is gloomy, the trees are bare — as empty as his heart without her.