Love Story For Sunday...

1972 California bathroom story...

You were pissed off at me because I tracked sand through your apartment.
You yelled at me through your bathroom door.
I stood there in the almost dark thinking that I’d never been in a bathroom before that didn’t have a window.
The smell from the burning wax of a candle mixed with the scent of your soaps and reminded me of a place that I once was, a long time ago. Only no one was yelling at me then.
When I was finished, I got the broom and dustpan from your kitchen closet and cleaned up the sand in your hallway. I threw the sand out the kitchen window.
“That was easy", I thought. "I can remove all traces of myself with just a broom.”
I found you sitting outside at the top of the front stairs, smoking a cigarette and nursing the last bit of beer from a bottle. The brown of the bottle was the same color as your sweater.
“I cleaned up your hallway. I have to go now, it’s getting late.”
You were gazing up at the darkening sky and said,
“It looks like it’s going to rain”.
When I got to the bottom of the stairs you yelled to me,
“It’s a new broom. How do you like it?”
“It’s a nice broom. I like the blue handle.”
“Are you coming by tomorrow?”
“I guess so.”
“Good. I’ll sweep up the sand tomorrow.”
“OK. I’ll bring my broom.”
“Yep. See you.”

wander with me...



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