The (J) Exception

The (J) Exception

A tall mammoth in the California surf

a “dude” with a man of Aslan

the sun in his hair

and two pieces of soft ice peering from his face

the blue skies forever in his eyes

You teased me as you said you would

your hint of laughter precipitating a collision

between our two beings

Your picture is not one I prefer

but the colors of you are a rainbow I like

and I find myself wanting

that which is not

and can never be

But for a moment

the gentleness of your fingers

mirrored the taste of your lips

and when your hands embraced my face

there was nothing outside my room to exist

And now

I find myself waiting to read you

to hear you unfold before me

only to have you leave

just as binding is cracked open

Finally you stayed

and we did more than read between the lines

Our books were open to the center

folded out under blinding light

No meticulous metaphors hid our meaning

We were but a short story

with our friendship being slammed shut between the covers

of our separate lives

Now the glass of my memory is the only reflection of you

and there is only rain where you once stood

in my room

September 26, 1993

Tressa Lee Breen