The Sun: Excerpt from A Work In Progress

It's dialogue, but short, so I'll categorize it a poem

                      T:

 

The sun. It’s rising, right over the horizon, right now. But this is the only spot where it can happen. At least right this moment. Every other place on earth, the sun’s a little higher, or just blazing in the sky, on some beach on another hemisphere. Or lower, so we can’t see it. But this is the only place right now where it’s peaking through and soft enough to look at, just... perfect. I remember the sun when I was eight. One sun. It was the sunset on December 31st, 1999. I was out on the deck by the water. With the whole family. Wolfie, the dog. I remember being consciously aware of that moment, even though I was so little. I knew that it was the last sunset of the millennium. And it made me really sorry. Not for me. For time, maybe. So I watched it sink down into the waves; I watched it go. And right as it dipped so low that the last orange dot fizzed out on the waves, I jumped. I didn’t think it would do anything. But I jumped. And that little leap got me high enough so I could see the little orange pixel one last time. The sun came back to say goodbye. If I was there now, I’d be taller, and I wouldn’t need to jump.