this too
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
  Hairline cracks


Every now and then, in a crowd of faces, I see your hairline. It was an odd shape and sat uneasily with the rest of your face.

I saw it only when a devil took you and you ordered your thick wayward waves shaved off.
I will not be what charms and pleases you, the compliant object of your gaze. Look, I am this ugly vulnerability. Take it or leave it.

Your hairline is imprinted on my forehead, like a third eyebrow. When I spot it, memory slugs me between the eyes.


Of course, you may be bald by now.
 
Comments:
Lovely post.
 
(o)
 
This has the kind of knockout last line that I associate with those expert microfiction writers at DANCING ON FLY ASH, a site I'm often touting. A concise little memory-tale, saying much in few words.
 
I'm happy to have found your writings, enjoyed reading this and look forward to more. All the best to you and your feline
 
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Isn't it odd what makes us remember certain people?
 
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Freelance copy-editor and translator. Keen on language, literature, photography, art, music, buddhist meditation and the countryside.

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