It's the last night of August and the last full moon of summer is waning in the western sky tonight. Soon the heat will fade, soon wood smoke will drift through the sky, smelling like autumn.
I'm trying hard to enjoy it as the sun walks away to the south and the place where the water meets the sand grows cold under my feet. I want to hold on to every memory of summer, because I know how much life we'll have to live before it comes back again.
And God, I don't know if I can face another winter.
I saw Joan Of Arc on the subway last night. She got on at Chambers Street, carrying a big mountain backpack and a sleeping bag. Her hair was still in that same short pageboy, and her bangs were blowing in a breeze that came from Rouen almost six hundred years ago. She even had a fleur-de-lys embroidered on the pocket of her jeans. Her eyes were still that same incredible clear shade of blue that dispelled all doubt the moment you looked deeply into them.
She caught my eye for just a second when she boarded, then she looked around the rest of the car. But it didn't matter, I knew she recognized me. The ghost of a smile crossed her face and vanished, a smile so faint and so quick that only those who knew her well would have seen it at all. I knew she was thinking the same thing as me. Hello again old friend. I missed you too.
She got off at West Fourth Street, same as me, but she went to the south end while I walked north to Eighth Street. I know she looked over her shoulder at me as we went our separate ways. And I know I'll see her again, soon. I've missed you, cherie!
I've got a Japanese fan painted with two storks in a bamboo forest on the wall over my bed.
I've got your hand in mine.
I've got a brass pentagram and a copper moon, a glass star and a bronze buddhist bell hanging in my bedroom doorway.
I've got your hand in mine.
I've got a salt lamp shining softly in the corner.
I've got your hand in mine.
Life's good.
I held your hand under green water, when the waves broke over our heads and we kissed in the cold salty gloom. Hands slipping on wet skin, teeth grazing gums, the kiss tasting of salt water and blood. Your fingernail grazed my shoulder and left a scar that still reminds me of that day, all these years later.
And when we stumbled up the beach and fell laughing on our blanket we kissed again in the sun, and the kiss tasted of sand and light. I think that was the first time in my life that I was so happy just to be me.
I met Donna on Montague Street yesterday and she invited me out to a movie, so how could I say no? She was wearing jeans and a white shirt and black vest, and her hair was tied back in a long red ponytail. She knows I can't resist that look!
The theatre was up by Columbus Circle, so we ate dinner at Lenge on Columbus Avenue. She had sushi and I ate veggie tempura, and we shared a fried ice cream for dessert. She'd never seen that before, it made her really happy. After dinner we held hands as we strolled through the sunset to the theatre.
It looked just like a regular theatre, red velvet seats and dim lighting, except the floor was covered in sand. Warm white beach sand, knee deep in the aisles and under the seats. I was surprised, but Donna seemed to expect it. We decided to sit in the aisle, she said it would be like watching a movie on the beach. I love that she thinks like that! We took our shoes off and pushed our feet into the warm soft sand, sitting side by side. I put my arm around her shoulder and she leaned against me as the lights dimmed and the film started.
A woman sitting by the aisle looked at us and smiled, and handed us her little boy, who was about three years old. "You need one of these!," she said, "Now you look like a real family!" I wasn't sure what to do, but I thanked her anyway. Donna took the boy on her lap and smiled like Christmas morning. He had the same deep red hair as hers. Finally she put him down in the aisle and gave him a little shovel, and he started to build a beautiful sand castle while we watched, half watching the movie and half watching him and half looking at each other.
When the film ended I picked the boy up and put him on my shoulder. I took Donna's hand and we walked up the aisle and out to the deserted street. "Donna," I said, "come home with me! I want you to meet all my friends!" She laughed and said, "Jim, you know I can't do that! You know I'm only the dream you had tonight, don't you?" I didn't want to admit it, but I knew she was right. "But what about the boy?," I asked her. She said, "Don't worry, I can take care of him by myself until you get up the nerve to come join me." I kissed her goodbye, and kissed the boy too. She looked at me hopefully and asked, "I'll see you later, right?"
Of course you will. Do you have to ask?
