Our Browning Days

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Memories

OUR BROWNING DAYS



Then there were those days on campus,

making just enough money for the

Friday two-for-ones at the Jasmine

on North Monroe.

We girls sat in our underwear

in the windows on third floor,

just because we could,

daring to be caught.



At the end of the day, I would

retreat to the shower and

listen to tearful renditions of

Pavarotti on an early version

of a walkman, attempting at

intervals to make it a duet.

Later, I would have a glass of

Italian wine, pin a red

flower in my hair, and order pizza.



In the middle of each day,

about noon, I would watch people

disappear in couples.

My love and I had chosen two

different avenues, well-thought.

I always feared he would close

his eyes and forget me, and

the greyhounds of loneliness

would consume me.



It was as though our relationship

was spinning like a corkscrew

into the soft black dirt of the

old trails where we

walked so many times.

But freedom is what love

is all about. We endured.

I look through old postcards

and phone bills, and

wonder how we made it.

And I rock those days

in the cradle of my heart,

for those were the days

that showed us how very

much our love is worth.



He is gone now, and if

only I could beckon him back

for one day, I would remind

him of those beautiful days

that we called our Browning days,

the days that taught us love.

~Fly free, my love~

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