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



Unrest & Abundance II...

My Dearest Gretchen,

I am without the desire for sleep at this such late an hour. I have counted the clock’s announcements for so many cycles that I speculate as to if I shall see the sunrise through our window.

The night’s moments, fashioned from minutes of none but exceedingly regarded admiration of your very once presence, are weighing themselves upon me as a blanket of clay. Considering surroundings provides no solace, but acts rather in unsettling aide memoire: the bedside table remains as it was, undisturbed, save for an occasional lifting of simple objects for the purpose of dusting underneath. A brush, three hairpins, a glass, and a dish containing two pairs of earrings and a button are repositioned neatly, accurately.

I ponder frequently upon the button in fact! I must admit that I am at a loss for its purpose. Indeed, our common areas and common possessions suggest a purpose; however, the small button – a dark red button – brings neither recollection nor function to mind when taken into consideration. Yet, it shall remain.

Horse hoofs pound the roadway; a draft gently whistles through the opened window; and, moisture from a section of timber cracks in the fireplace.

I’m smitten, alas, by every lingering lovely essence you afforded from eyes now gone.

Affectionately yours,

C. Lawrence Webb

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