FM RadioA Story by VanessaWritten as I sat out in the rainy grass
Could I lie with you, your arms entwined in me, without assumptions being made?? Could I tell you that I love the feel of wet stones on my toes, and will you tell me that you wish you and I could go to sit in the rain together?? If I said that I enjoy talking to the local pond while listening to my crappy, plastic radio, would you kiss my forehead and tell me I was silly??
When I tell you that I like the smell of lake water and birds’ feathers, please tell me that you find me incomprehensive. You don’t have to understand.
I’m going to tell you that I loathe plastic. I’ll say that I love the days when the tadpoles meet me at the water’s end; won’t you smile at me and bring pictures of the clouds??
I listened to your favorite song today, heard it on my FM radio. I thought of when I used to call you while I sat by the ducklings that flapped their smallish, developing wings, sprinkling me with lake water. I’d closed my eyes and stretched out in the implausibly green grass, putting my cell phone to the single use it had in speaking with the only one that would talk to me.
I heard one mad guitar solo, while listening to my FM radio. I thought of you and how you used to air-guitar during classes.
And now I’m sitting in the grass, alone but for the tadpoles and the dripping from a tree above my head. My cell phone is far from reach, as I never liked that foolish piece of machinery. The day is melting with the sky, as I listen to my FM radio.
© 2008 VanessaReviews
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4 Reviews Added on August 13, 2008 AuthorVanessaAbout-As an introduction . . . . every place that I go gets an even number of steps. Yet, I don't very much like symmetry. -I love the smell of wet moss when it rains. -There's this ama.. more..Writing
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