I've never had the right idea about you, so there's no use telling me
about the wrong one. I flew into your city last August and can still
feel its wet heat on my skin. Even though I'm half way around the
world, your voice is in my head. As for your face, I didn't save the
picture you sent and so the features are blurred in my memory. I got
reading glasses but they don't help. The words on the page are hard to
catch. They're like frogs hopping from one stone to another to another.
- - -
Read MH's "The Last Swim."
w i g · l e a F