Wolves, Love, Wounds

Sometimes you stumble into a fit so right no introduction is necessary.

Typical of the human is to take for granted and expect more. We always forget to remember that a time may come when what we know is no longer. You'll lose the love of bad dogs and forge friendships with good wolves. As fate gives equally she takes. She closes some doors and chucks those keys deep into the turquoise sea.

I heard a story about a man and his friend from long ago when she decided to visit him. They were secret lovers for a decade or more. Privately through their respective romances the thread connecting them never broke.

How perfect, he thought, his lover with him in this place he loves, an amplification of perfection. Basic math.

In his driveway he waited for his friend. He leaned comfortably against his shiny chrome chopper and smoked a cigaret. She arrived startling a squall of dust when she parked. She opened her door, long legs in boots and jeans and as she exited he crushed his cigaret underfoot and went toward her. She looked exactly as he remembered. The cloud between them kicked up a miasma obscuring reality. He walked and walked but he never found her.

Sure, the woman who got out of the car she was real enough, but their bond was lost, he could see it not in her eyes. This stranger tarried a few days in his space. It was a relief to say goodbye. She retreated to her confusions, he to his ruminations. Feelings were singed, permanently.

Whatever ephemera had infused their romance, the colors in the gaslight were beyond dimmed, they were evaporated. The only honorable mourning is to love what you had. Light will splash the east window, a knife without a blade. I promise you through your occluded eyes you'll see the good wolf trotting in the shadows of the valley's mountain peaks and no introduction will be necessary.