Gravel

You should know they tore down the park with the dry fountain and the benches placed in a half circle. We met there so I could make an apology while the sun pierced through my first light layer, denim to skin. Both of us overdressed for a day with the sun sitting as high as it was. I never said it then but thanks for moving us to a cooler spot with more trees and a breeze to breathe when we needed. Do you notice how once you move south of W10th the intersections start to look like cement triangles dropped from the sky? Patches of land placed together like a puzzle or perhaps something more incomplete. I don’t remember much about what you said mostly just the way your arms moved while you chose your words. I wonder if you’d remember that plot of vacant land sitting between 14th and 15th. Its piles of dirt, gravel, unfulfilled landscape are all I can think about. Don’t you wonder how long something can avoid the inevitable like that? Precious real estate without an agenda I wonder if it’ll teach us something about self-preservation. Let me take a few notes for the both of us. I’ll wait here while you grab a pen but before you go I have something at the bottom of my bag. A book dressed in brown paper wrapped with a piece of red string. You can open it now or open it later I’m okay with whichever you decide. Did you know I’ve still got yours sitting dormant on my nightstand? Dog-eared and incomplete I can’t bring myself to finish what I started.