THE HIDDEN TRACK

The following passages are dedicated to Leopold, to the vernacular, to certain evil women (you know who you are), to certain wonderful people(they know who they are), to soft afternoons and quiet Sunday evenings, to Fall and seeing your breath for the first time since Spring, and to Isabelle Ya Feng ... a soul slipped by like two ships passing in the still, moonlit sea.
-- Abraham Ahmed, the Surfing Beatnik



Never the Wisest...

"Morning Jacob."

"Hey! Good morning!"

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Yes I did. I slept ah, great."

"I walked down and bought bread and creamer while you were sleeping... are you hungry?"

"You've been up?"

"yes"

"Bread huh? What kind of bread?"

"A marble rye of some sort, fresh, still warm - I think they baked them a couple hours ago. I have coffee on the stove too."

"I could eat somthing actually."

"Good."

"How long have you been watching me?"

"Fifteen minutes."

"Really?"

"Okay, about an hour."

"An hour? What did'ya get from all that?"

"An understanding of s few questions I had."

"Oh really?"

"Ya. You speak with your eyes closed and converse without ever having to utter a phrase. I like the things you tell me."

"Like?"

"Like, promises of security, assurance, future, commonplace happiness, kitchen tables with flowers and warm breezes fingering curtains."

"Sounds deep."

"It was... It always is."

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