I still loved him unrepentantly and exactly in the spot
where his spirit used to be, something akin to standing in the remains of a old
campfire, the soft, cold, smoky-sweet ashes recalling that a crackling heat
once leapt and danced there. The last of the pulsing orange embers were
thoroughly doused on the day when he licensed one of his songs – written to me
in the wildfire days of our relationship-- to a Japanese ad agency. It was used
as the music in a “Magic Rainbow Color” cigarette commercial, which featured
uniformed smiling teen schoolgirls bouncing happily with giant animated
multi-hued cigarettes on glitter-laden trampolines.
“Go buy a purse,” he snapped at me, making no eye contact.
It become harder and harder over the years to wash the ash
from my feet, and the stains it left appeared much as bruises would; a clever
and cruel reminder, I thought.
© Copyright 2008- Marianne Spellman