I had a dream last night about a dog.
D Half-dead, or so I thought. He lay limp in the doctor’s arms, a rag of a thing. Eyes dim.Somehow, a razor blade had lodged in his gum. Long enough to darken the tissue, spoil the breath. Reduce him to absence more than animal. When the source of hurt was finally found and pulled clean, he jerked up, wild with life.
He barked once. Bright and startling. Joy.
Joy: Finding the courage to leave. Reaping the rewards. The delight of being without.
Joy: Sprawling out beneath a sky-whipped-cerulean. Our cheeks rouged an estrogenic pink. Limoncello custard cream melting in the sun. We are returning to ourselves again.
Joy: A man is playing “Non, je ne regrette rien” from his bike basket speaker, and I am my own best friend.
Joy: Nobody has ever looked at me the way you did on the bus ride home. Snow filled my shoes that night, but I didn’t care. The streetlight looked like a mini moon, and I was falling in love with you.
Joy: My mother tells me to put vanilla extract behind my ears like the old-fashioned ladies. Someday, I will tell my daughter to put vanilla extract behind her ears like the old-fashioned ladies.
Joy: It’s summer in New York. Children splash in a plastic pool fed by a roaring fire hydrant.
Joy: A peach. Tinned fish. Orange wine.
Joy: My little yellow radio. Listening to NPR on my little yellow radio.