Flick and Flame and Flash

Alley of the Dream - Leonid Afremov

Alley of the Dream by Leonid Afremov

(read by David De La Torre)

(read by Loretta Chilvers)

I thought about this the other day. Under your words and my wails were my tears and my torment over what wrecks me and us and we. You came and saw there is linear and there is line, stretching forward into time. You saw I’m back, bigger, better, bolder than before. I’m living life, yet I still won’t close the door. You came quickly and cleverly and coyly and slyly and then you slunk and slipped stealthily away. You teased me because you wouldn’t stay.

There were no more majors and not many minors. There was hardly enough to know you had been, that you had balanced in my beams, that you had sung with such a loud voice that you silenced the no longer seen, because seen is what you were, briefly but still bigly.

No one who met you wondered why you went. They wondered why you ever were. “She’s great!” they’d say and they were right. “What is she doing with you?” they’d wonder aloud, alone with me or in a crowd and their rightness wasn’t any less because anyone who saw us, who saw me and saw you would wonder why you were with me the same why I’d wonder why you were. It wasn’t your looks. It wasn’t your exterior. It was your help, your heart, your thoughtful healing hand over my swollen, swelling head. It was you keeping me from saying things that were better left unsaid. I would open my mouth and say silliness, and rather than run or rebuke you’d silence my lips with darting, soft kisses. You’d talk to me tenderly. You’d tell me tales of who I was meant to be and tell me to be like him, the man that I wasn’t but the one I want to be. So, you in your absence and absentia still said things that took hold and held me up. You buoy me more brightly and blindingly than I ever thought I could be.

Then again I’m in your waves and in your wake, you linger softly, gently, rolling me in your quake. And while you are long gone, you leave me wrecked, still reeling, barely rebuilding the rubble, the broken brick, the mortar and the sand. There amongst the soot and in the smoke, what once was flick and flame and flash, I wince now and see you rising in the ash.




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