Clothes blow on the line in a summer breeze as the top ten hits play on a red, maybe light blue, transistor radio. He's coming home today, and you didn't want to look like Casper, the ghost, so you're lying on a blanket, the one your mother gave to you, and you couldn't bear to tell her how much you disliked it. But it serves you well for this task. As you leaf through the pages of Glamour magazine, your thoughts are with him and your thanks to God for his safe return. The taxi stopped in front of our house, and my legs grew weak as I watched him walk towards me, that huge smile I loved so much stretching across his beautiful face. I ran and jumped into his arms, our bodies together again, our desires too strong to ignore. Now, we lie together on a blanket as the wind blows the clothes on the line, and the top ten hits play softly in the distance on a light blue or maybe red transistor radio.
MO
No comments:
Post a Comment