Yellow

....It all depends on the definition of "my peeps" and "ok" and right now I'm struggling with both....

You know he's gone?  He left six months ago but it feels just like this morning.  I've been listening to The Beekeeper all day.  He said he was worried about me but I told him I was fine and he should go.  Then another said he was worried about me and I told him I was fine but I didn't tell him to go and he left anyway.  For 2 months I've wished I was the seated woman with the parasol.

The kettle on the stove is beginning to whistle quietly.  It won't get much past the hint of a whistle.  It's been broken for years.  Too many moves, too many apartments, too much time in and out of boxes.  That poor grease stained kettle has to be at least 9 years old by now.  Tonight I'm looking forward to a cup of green tea with lemongrass and mint.

It's been more than 12 years now of Mays turning into Junes and I have no thoughts about anything in any direction other than, what possessed me to buy a pack of cigarettes and smoke half of it before dinner?  My chest is filled with a thousand razor blades and weighs a ton.  But the taste in my mouth and the air around me is comforting and makes me smile and reminds me of more than a few great loves and adventures.

Tonight my mind keeps going to the back of the 15 foot Penske truck, half full and backed into the driveway on Moonflower Road.  Those ridiculous white and yellow barrel back chairs from the early 70's were the last things I had put in and we sat around on the back of the truck drinking beers together one last time.  Back in a time when going through 2 cases of beer and half a carton of Marlborough Lights after work was a daily occurrence for the four of us.  I've never been a smoker but I've always fallen in love with them.

I still have those ugly barrel back chairs in a storage unit sitting still and lonely and being the only material objects I'm saving solely for the memories they hold.  "Silly girl, a chair can't hold memories."  This I know but I wish I was sitting in one right now as I smoke the cigarettes of the ghosts.  I also wish I was drinking my Guinness out of the mugs he gave me that night in the back of the Penske truck.  I hope they are safe in that storage unit as well and did not become a casualty of my fickleness and flight response like countless other whats and whos.

In a few hours I will drunkenly curl up with his poems and probably a few of hers and maybe a song or 2 until I pass out.  I have no regrets but I some nights I swing from old wishes.  Tonight is one of those nights.