The Bench

Glimmers of the sun shake between the branches of trees,
like a child wandering far from home.

The bench beneath me offers some strange kind of comfort, because I’ve sat there hundreds of times before, a cigarette held lightly between my first two fingers. A breeze stirs the sweaty tendrils of hair off the back of my neck. The sun hovers in my eyes. The nicotine settles into my veins like a fine dust that will blow gently away over the next hour. I think of you.

Same bench, same time. 8 o’clock has become alluring ever since I’ve entered the working world. It marks the time of pause, which I’ve always neglected to relish. The sky is pewter, like the underlights of your eyes. A breeze picks up off of the lake, which smells earthy and pungent. Rain threatens the sky; a drop hits the tip of my nose. For some reason, I picture the same sky, same weather but with a different landscape: a wooden porch, two rocking chairs with chipped white paint, rolling grass. I see myself, older, mayhap even wiser. I see you, aged the same way. My heart lurches.

Same bench, less comforting, due to my agitation. 10 o’clock marks the passing of too much wasted time. Night cloaks this lonely restaurant, with the single streetlamp, yellow on the parking lot. My body is both weary and sated from hard work. My back aches distantly as my thoughts cloud. The tip of my cigarette seems the only familiar thing.  I lay on my back across the bench, which is now solidly comfortable beneath me. Points of light, an unfathomable distance away, wink merrily down at me as I identify Orion’s belt. I pick out a plane or two as I contemplate where you fit into my life. What I assume is the Big Dipper blinks at me when I discover you do have a place. I exhale markedly, wishing you were next to me so I could whisper, "You belong right here next to me."

And so it goes, on that bench, every day, you’re in my thoughts.
My soul craves your hand to steady me when I falter.
Frivolity has fogged my mind.
The bench & the sky have
combined to assure
me that if my heart
wobbles, I must
trust nature
itself.

love always,
me.