If I am repaired, can we meet again for the first time, in all of the places I have feared to go, and then, again, in all of the places I will have forgotten, if I am repaired?



Tuesday, August 14, 2012

On Dixie and the Meteors

     In the wake of a front, we bundled. She more than I—though far from fragile, her slight frame no match for the unseasonal chill. We packed mountain chairs out into the eastward darkness; padded them and settled in for the long watch of the Perseids annual passing. You have great sky, she said, as if the heavens that poured over her upturned face were some potential of mine, found in a line traced upon my palm. How fearless we were. Fearless of the bodies that fell burning, wish after wish. Fearless of the one slip that might spit us out into that great expanse; carry us wayward into the morning sun. Fearless, but for the tiny space between our hands, neither of us could cross.


  1. I wish I had a huge book of your writings, Steven, to read just before I go to bed, and when I get up, and rainy days when I'm cooped up inside...Your writing is so beautiful! I just love it :)

  2. I looked and didn't see any... of course, a great deal of that maybe had to do with where I live.

    'Great Band Name' Alert...

    'Dixie and the Meteors'...



  3. The tension you create... it's amazing.

  4. I didn't see any either but, tonight after reading this, I can imagine how explosive your heaven's were!


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