... Light and Dust ...

We met at a party for would-be sailors. We agreed the nicest people in the world were those we'd met naked in water. As I left, I brushed past you -- my right arm grazing your left, leaving my scent. The way a cat tells its owner: you're mine.


Sitcom with angels, can't quite recall the quote:

"Anything done in love isn't lost."

"No act of love is futile."

"Any act of love isn't lost."

"All acts of love count."

"Anything done in love counts."

"No love extended is ever wasted."

In the houseboat among the rushes of the marsh.

Intense conversations in little bars that sell greasy fries or gator tail. Blue flames on a gas burner. Prismatic effects in the afternoon.

As in wartime, meeting clandestinely between trains. One hour to share stories, feelings--only the most important. Concentrated essence, liqueurs, intoxicating.

Jimmy was a red-head now gray. Still freckled. On his dresser, image of him in white sailor suit, navy tie. Anchors away. He is everywhere, in every wave.