words


The last of the sun lit the valley in ways that made all the best myths of my childhood seem possible, golden rays falling on green so deep and on a cloudbank the greatest painters of the world could not capture and, yes, on her skin and on her hair, and splashing off the blue of her eyes. We lay next to each other on the warm bonnet of the borrowed Rover, our fingers intertwined, and I said, "thanks for coming with me today," and she said, "I wouldn't have missed it for the world." I wanted to say so much more, but sometimes when I need them most, words elude me.


copyright 2006-2012 by Ira David Socol

Comments

country roads said…
Wow! What a comforting surprise to hear your words again. Hope you are well, my friend.

Jason
(Jrat from the xanga days)
1:53 PM, May 24, 2012
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

A River Runs Through It

Image
I stand in the Winter Garden looking down. My back toward the grand stairs and the vast room and the palm trees and the mirror-like polish on the floor and the Hudson River just beyond. It is the 12th of September, four years after, and I stare into the vast site that once held the World Trade Center - now just an odd-shaped concrete tub with trains sliding through a loop inside. Between that place and I West Street buzzes with traffic and this glass wall, so consciously engineered, stands. When this was first created it looked directly into the gap between Tower One and the hotel. A taught skin wrapping an urban panorama. Now it seems more a hastily erected barrier. Crime scene tape rendered in the architecture of our post-industrial age. It is almost four centuries since Henry Hudson first sailed past this spot on a vast, wide salt-flavoured river that seemed as if it must connect sea to sea. In fact, he might have sailed on this spot, for it was river then. Looking into the Trade C...
Read more

The Beach

Image
With the Hudson River at my back I sit and eat two slices of acceptable "Famous Original Rays" or whatever it is pizza as I stare into the pool below the Irish Hunger Memorial. The koi swim in calm arcs with a few manic direction shifts, which seems just about right. Whenever I am here I think of this sick joke that I can make big money by opening a "Famine Fries" stand in the shadow of this monument, but I try hard not to mention that to anyone. Long ago, when I was a kid, this whole area west of the Trade Center was just a giant beach. They'd filled all this land in, out beyond the old pier lines, when they built the towers, but then they'd argued about this place called "Battery Park City" for two decades. So it sat there, vast and empty and cool in the summer and icy in the winter and all we had to do was hop the fence and you could do anything out here, soccer, or stickball, drugs or sex, sunbathing or music – it was the most un-Manhattan ...
Read more

Kilmainham

Image
On a shockingly sunny Thursday morning I took Caitlin to Kilmainham. We went because I needed to and I discovered that she had never been. "You've never been at'all?" "Never, I've been to Guinness though, and to Jameson's." "Not quite the same." "I live more in the present than you." "Still." "I've been meaning to, it's just out of the way." I told her to call in sick and we caught the bus and rode out, yes, past Guinness. "But you've been to the Contemporary Art Museum?" "Of course, you've been there with me." I remembered that, I'd harassed her two months ago about the same thing as we rode a bus back from an opening. We were alone up top and she silenced me with an absolutely teenage snog session there in the front seat that carried us all the way back from the western edge of the old city to College Green. "It's right across the street," I'd said...
Read more