Oh, the questions of my childhood... they weave a web of mystery.

boom, boom, boom.

early techno music playing.

raining outside.

stillness in the kitchen.

mother is at the store.

wrapped up in the magic.

soft magic.

magic of the moment.

can't stop shaking.

shaking.

the stain of white paint on black plastic.

the sound of television ambience.

please, oh please don't go to sleep before me.

please, oh please stay awake just a little longer.

rain on the window screen. the smell of

ENDLESS SUMMER.

ENDLESS SUMMER.

ENDLESS SUMMER.

ENDLESS SUMMER.

on and on it goes.

infinite.

bury the books in the ground. bury the gold there, too. leave a message to whomever finds it. these things were for you. years later I get a call from the boy asking if he may take it back. all I can say is you promised me.

a sparrow behind an old tire, a breeze not felt by anyone, and an unremembered sunny afternoon. these three things were all he could see. the vision fades, blurred by tears. these questions of his childhood continue to weave a web of mystery.

phones clicks in its cradle. that's it. nods to someone who isn't really there. that's it, I guess. eyes squinting, then shut. exhale. were you the girl at the mall? was that... you? I don't remember if it was you. was I waiting for you? what?

turns around on the mattress on the floor. it never thunders here. just rain. just memories of reruns always. I can't wait for the summer. oh, it will be sweet.

[continue]