after sleeping away the entire afternoon yesterday, i climbed out of the strange man's bed just right after sunset. i pulled on my trousers and went to pee in his bathroom. through the slit window, i could already see the moon, a full moon, up in the turquoise september sky.
this was my weekend to work and he knew it. just before i left his apartment, he rolled up out of his bed and pointed something at the window sill.
"what?" i asked. wordless, he continued pointing at the window. "i'll be late," i said. then i saw them. pigeons. three, four of them staring at us from outside the window. their drab plumage rainbowed. they stared at us like they recognized us. knew how we felt. then they flew away leaving us two, awash in moonlight, gawking at the now empty window sill.
sure. no guarantees in this life. i know that. could happen anytime. hurricane in new orleans, the end of corruption in manila, the end of partisan politics in washington, end of songs. it could happen. harvest moon, a thing of staggering beauty in the projects, perhaps, even love.
