Michael Munas (michaelboy) wrote,
Michael Munas

A Touch of Melancholy

It's warm outside and the space heater is running in my office. It is quiet even though the radio is playing and this makes me think about all the choices I've made in my life.

* * *

We used to lay in the gutters along Efaw Avenue when it would storm, and let the water gush like madness all around us.

* * *

In my wild abandon, where I might be wrought, I wish to be lost among tangles of rhododendron where a stream roars, tumbles and cuts massive boulders - here, where I might taste rivulets of complete moisture as they roll from my lip - here, at the dripping margin where foaming whitewater ends and fogged morning mist begins - here, where I could open my mouth and speak with words drowned so completely by chest pounding sounds of water thundering down and hard with purpose - here, where my whitened hands would rest on rocks covered with cool slick moss.
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