Friday, July 9, 2010


You told me I didn't need to stop by, but I did anyway.  I sat on your couch while you made dinner.  Can I help? I asked What can I do?  

In the kitchen,  the radio said, A little bit of Monica in my life, A little bit of Erica by my side. You were singing along, in a big goofy voice.

There was a ballgame on tv and your team was ahead in the first and ahead in the sixth, but you punched the off button on the remote before we could watch them blow yet another lead. 

They need a closer, you said. 
When you walked me to my car, you opened the door for me and then you shut it.  You tapped on the window and, when I rolled it down, you put your hand on top of mine.  You said goodbye.  You said take care.  You probably even said see you later. 

I put the car in gear.  The road was empty and, as far as I could see, every traffic light was green or turning to green.  I didn't cry until I got all the way home.

                                                *     *     *
As you probably realize, goodbyes are not exactly my strong point.  So I'm not going to say it and you don't need to say it either.

You know where to find me. 

Or, to put it another way, exit, pursued by a bear.