"See you tomorrow." My hand shuts the door. My hand, so fragile and velvet. Beyond delicate. Toward the setting sun, Melrose Avenue really is beautiful in candle light. My face, as though it's holding it's breath, keeping time and all it moves, all it decays back for one last moment . It can only be a year or two before priorities force an exhale and the light goes out. The little girl I was will no longer exist, will no longer relate to who I am. She will survive in pictures the same way family pets from before my birth survive. I will no longer hold rights to swings and jump ropes. Kites and kittens gone. Left to me is, "She's getting old." Turn right at N Highland Ave. Beautiful women on the sidewalk, chatting and skating about. On their way to gatherings where bar tenders pour cups of privilege and shots of assurance. Drink up, I know how you need it. To be young and beautiful, to be given that. Turn left at Santa Monica Blvd. So many memories here. Thick, too thick. I loved his hands so much. Losing nothing through time. Strength, warmth, touch. Right at N Harper Ave. The light is red now. The sun long gone. Soon it will be night.
