Wednesday, June 14, 2006

The Old Flame

I first heard his voice through a window. I was smoking a cigarette - brooding and melancholy that was my style. He was spinning some tall tale, loudly and colorfully, that was his style.
When we first made love I could hardly believe my luck. My stomach still seizes up at the memory.

Before him I was girl, he made me woman. He didn't take my virgingity, that was long gone. Instead he taught me that grown men don't want silly little girls, they wantmature women who can hold up the world while it's falling to pieces around them.

He couldn't commit and after two years of waiting I left him in Vegas. It's where he wanted to be.

Willie Nelson sings an incredibly sad song called "Angel Flying too Close to the Ground." Thats my song to you, Ricky. I know you're probably still in Vegas, in the same house, in the same situation.

I'm in Portland now, married with those kids you said you'd never be able to give me.

Roy saw my first son a few years ago. Did he tell you? I wanted to ask him about you, but I didn't, it felt too weird. I mean, it was pretty obvious that I'd moved on.

You were right, it never would have worked between us. You were always right. I still love you, always will. I know you're happy about that.


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