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dirt fc This writing was accepted for publication
in the 84 page perfect-bound issue...
Down in the Dirt magazine (v079)
(the February 2010 Issue)




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So Dark You Forget Who You Are...

Red Chatham

I kissed a stranger last night
in an unbridled expression of impulse
An act not thought through
not reflected upon. And censured

it was cold outside
but inside (where the party roared) it was too hot.
and I don’t remember a name now
or if we were even introduced...

That morning as I walked down the street
a nut fell from a tree into my unexpecting palm.
It rested there momentarily
as I stopped in my tracks
before I tossed it over my shoulder
and resumed my brisk, unseeing stride.

I saw it coming a mile away
the lidded eyes, the quiet smiles...
we were chatting about something
And he smoked
in that way I cannot call anything but sexy
despite my distaste for the habit

the park was surprisingly empty
for that hour of the afternoon
but then, rain had only subsided
recently enough for benches to be damp.

I watched dewdrops
hanging precariously from leaves
because there were no people
on whom I could look with contented longing...

when he made the move it was almost a relief
the tension broke like a wave
moving with his lips and tongue;
I let him move me.

Two girls walked past
(and a boy with a dog)
one of them with a purse and colorful phone
the other wore wellies three sizes too large
and intentionally torn jeans
She made a point
to step in every puddle they passed
no matter how small.

I pulled him close
My back against the stone wall
—damp from the rain hours before—

I made love with a stranger last night
In that way people will
not doubting the impulse
Or answering regret.
(there would be tomorrow for that)
No, I let him move me
willing in that moment to forget who I was...



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