Scott Carter’s Thread9

This is based on the words I sent to Bret – own/yesterday

My own, yesterday
1. He checked it all out again, scanning the items as if it were loot gathered in a life of piracy: a bicycle he didn’t really ride anymore, his guitar – waiting to be sung to, a set of pans he had been able to purchase saving coupons from the grocery store – their orange flowers screaming from the white enamel sides, several boxes with various papers and books, some old school books, and a few suitcases with his warddrobe.
2. So this was his life, all packed together in less than half the space of a small bedroom.
3. His possessions barely took up the space of a good-size bed, and yet they were his; he owned them.
4. “Are you ready to go? The truck is outside – not that we’ll need a truck.”
5. He glanced around at the laughing face, awoken from his reverie of his yesterdays.
6. “Yeah, we need to get going if we are going to get there on time.”
7. He wouldn’t be returning to this place; it would never be the same again, even if he did return, because he was different.
8. Yesterday he owned all that he now saw piled in a little heap in front of him, and himself.
9. He looked again at the eyes smiling into his own and couldn’t restrain his own smile; they were no more their own, this woman and man – they now belonged to each other – and yesterday made way for what tomorrow would bring.

~ by sraabs on June 4, 2007.