just enough to ripple my waters
The backroads around here, the small highways are haunted with thoughts of you, your face but mostly the abstract idea of you. The Apostle. I used to drive those highways and the thoughts would come to mind as easily as the wind slipped through the open windows, rustling through my hair.
And you were too good, better than me. Your morals, your good sense or maybe your plain scared-ness were higher than me, I was grovelling at the gates of infidelity, practically begging to be let in. But over the years, yes years, the feelings came and went and I gradually grew into another sort of Gish.
A friend and I were seated at a table in the window of my favourite restuarant when she spotted you driving by. I only come into southern ontario for short visits and the sight of you in that orange truck wasn't something I was prepared for or even expected.
I guess even cities are too small, sometimes.
Labels: Apostle