Dusty Afternoon

While doing a bit of cataloging on LibraryThing, I found the following bit of writing on an index card shoved in The Bell Jar:

She and I sat on the shadowed benches
wondering whether or not the old and
dusty speaking boxes worked. The rising sun
cast an eerie glow on everything and somehow
we lost the motivation to speak. So
we stood and remembered the midnight
rides as we whispered through the
dirt-filled spaces of our
childhood.

I don’t remember when I wrote it, or who it was about in particular, but am always surprised when I find my poems scattered about. Given, it’s not of any sort of quality, I was just… amused that it existed and of my decision to stow it where I did.