Cara Writes

Lying asleep last night I met my muse. I almost missed her because she is fairy-quick and hides quite frequently. I grabbed her wrist, tugging on her copper corduroy blazer; she turned and looked at me. She spoke; I heard it with my mind. "I like that you're trying to write a story about me," she said. "I don't know what your story is," I said, "I only know what you look like. What do you want? Where are you going? I don't even know your name." She smiled, put her free hand on my cheek. I let go of her wrist, and just like that, she was gone.

God met me at the bus stop. he held my hand, commented on my sweater and said I was good to be prepared. I climbed on the seesaw, the thick metal digging at my thighs, but I carried on for childhood's sake. "I'm just going to look at the view," he said, "stay where I can see you." The tour started moving, making way up the hill. I dismounted the seesaw, imagining it was a horse; a longing pain in my chest. I scooped up my black backpack, trudged through nettle as tall as I am, cursing under my breath for the itches on my ankles and the narrowness of the road. I followed trustingly, like a donkey led down the Grand Canyon. Moans gurgled in my throat, I didn't want to take this journey. One foot pressed on leading the other. one, two, one, two. Ahead a chestnut poked her head over the gray stone. My aches melted, the grunts subsided. I stroked her face, looked in her marble eyes like a traveler sees water in the dessert. I pressed on to Sylvia's grave,...

Christine sits sinking into the left corner of the olive green couch. She handles the latest sociological book or Time magazine over her neatly folded legs. Tortoiseshell glasses slide lower down her nose; her glass of wine sweats in her right hand. Christine is upstairs, mending the bed so the sheets will be cold when she retreats for sleep. Her head lulls into her chest, a slight snoring ensues. I crawl in the space beside her, flip through the channels on low. My heart skips quickly when she grasps my hand and holds it.