06: June 2015 #10 - Crimson & Green
Authored by Brytnee Miller
Crimson & Green
The gate is closing - I'm watching it as the chain links bump against themselves, crimson of the truck parked behind, contrasting the silver links. Crimson, the color you wore best. Nights in the cold of Denver where I realize that red brings out the nostalgia of childhood innocence, Christmas, from the green in your eyes. That same green that tore into me the first night you came back from lush jungles of Costa Rica. Holding that hackey sack, waiting for an embrace I wasn't sure I was prepared to give. I imagined you barefoot and wild haired, coconuts from trees that I'll never get to see or tides from waters I won't reach. Your wild soul fiercely impassioned red for lust or life. Happiness on grass under redwoods standing tall and proud in a California night where you pointed out Taurus - the stubborn bull that I am. Kids chattering and the thrill of an old feeling anew. Much different from the thrill of that old, fat man driving up and down a beach waving - you behind me. Thrusting of waves and bodies, naked free. My libido betraying me, not much unlike yours did the night on a boat where you first pointed out constellations so foreign. The webs of fingers ebbing into mine pulled by the moon in waning magnificence. The freshness of summer ending. Green eyes meeting mine. Electricity of a thunderstorm that has long since passed. Denver Greyhound station, bustling and cold. The man who pointed out how things could end the way thunder booms and fizzles away, yet that feeling stayed. Static naivety and blackjack under fluorescent lights. Not much different from the luminescent glow that illuminates from my headlight. Dim, yet just enough bright. You asked for a story in exchange for a song. But that song ended the same way we did - a joke and a smile, a familiar hug - chest against chest. Familiarity is the cousin of comfort and the nemesis of change. The lack of understanding about a four letter phrase so overused - what a shame. But how can you make love stay? The very sentence that bugged us for days. How can you? When its very nature betrays the idea of a name. Lessons lost in translation off the coast of Japan. Gates closing and chain links that snug tightly together, silver on silver. No more crimson or green.