A Place Outside Time

March 2, 2018April 13, 2018 ~ Piece, of the Sky

never stop trappin'

Kaan walked the path, covered in damp leaves. The trees stood out in sharp relief against the white sky. The clouds rolled and expanded out, climbing down the mountains. The branches were empty, scraggly veins written on the firmament.

The woods smelled of wet earth. It had rained that morning. Droplets budded where leaves had once shaken in the cold, autumn wind.

The trees were thinning. Through the gnarled trunks, Kaan could see the old house, shingles hanging lopsided, roof full of holes. No one had been to the gray structure in years.

She stopped in the woods. Coming off the path, she could see the door leaning, barely on its hinges. Dead foliage filled the front lawn. Dry grass curled into the dust. The mailbox stood askew in the wet, sunken ground. Kaan didn’t go in yet. She thought of Aspen.

Why did you leave me?

She could almost see her here: Aspen in a lacy, white dress, holding a frilly parasol aloft, twirling it – lifting one dainty, black Jimmy Choo-clad foot in the air, smelling of hard candy.

They had run the book store together, with its low ceilings and leaky bathroom faucet. After work, Kaan would charge off on her Harley, and Aspen would yell at her to slow down, camel skin pea coat swirling around perfect legs, calves sculpted by months of spinning classes.

Kaan sat down on the low wooden steps, half rotted through. Love is a haunted house standing in your heart, Kaan thought. She lit a Newport and had to really drag on it to get the fire going. She lay down on the forgotten porch, cigarette smoke spiraling up idly, some getting in her nostrils – the rest, catching the next breeze into the stratosphere.

She found herself crying, chest heaving helplessly on the frigid boards, far away, in some forest in Maine. I miss you. Why won’t you come back? Not even her black leather jacket protected her from the cold, the thunderous, rushing wind galloping through the woods, blowing through her heart.

should have worn the vest

Song:

Blue Foundation – “Eyes on Fire”

Past Future

March 1, 2018April 6, 2018 ~ Piece, of the Sky

Miami synthwave, vaporwave

The smell of the sea came in off the water. They sat around a white tablecloth, on the porch of Ran’s house. Alli had put out the long, silver candlesticks. Beyond the wooden railing, tufts of beach grass flailed in the wind.

A full moon rose in the east, a crisp, silver disk floating in the pink and cyan haze, the end of another perfect summer day. Ran came out in a dress shirt holding a Merlot and two wine glasses aloft.

As they nursed the glasses, the orb of the sun slipped below their view. The evening’s last seagulls landed and pecked away at sand dollars.

They had spent the afternoon combing the beach with a metal detector, found in the basement of Ran’s house – just looking for old coins. Their search yielded an assortment of beer bottle-caps and a rusted bottle opener, “Courtesy of the patrons of some party,” Ran said.

Alli brought out the baked chicken and Ran got the baguette. She had bought the loaf at Maison Kayser, before they had left the city this morning. She cut some for the meal and broke her portion in half.

Turning the stem of her wine glass, Alli watched rabbits bound in and out of the dune grass. “What do you think about checking out the abandoned house, by the inlet?” she asked.

“Can we bring our metal detector?” Ran joked.

“Sure,” Alli laughed, “Electronic thermometers for cold spots. Radar guns. Infrared goggles. Anything.”

The last vestiges of the sun had disappeared. Only red light remained. “One day, I will teach you how to surf,” Ran said, looking out at the waves.

“Night surfing too?” Alli grinned.

Ran looked back at her, “Whatever you want.”

They cleared away the plates, folded up the tablecloth, retreated inside to the retro, floral-print couch. “Festive,” Alli remarked, “When did you get this?”

“Maybe five years ago,” Ran mused, “A going-out-of-business clearance sale.”

They sat down and watched cable on the ancient wooden set Ran had rigged up to play today’s TV. She had gutted it, cleaned out the old parts, and put the pieces of a new TV into the old case, “New wine in old skins,” Ran had explained. It still worked.

The glare of the TV shone into the night, as breakers crashed onto the shore.

so '90s