a rare and wonderful cupcake

Someone said cupcake and I thought of you, he said long ago.
Another once added, you are rare and wonderful.

You of course, with your digital whispers. Do you remember them as well as I? You and them are the same in the end and all your voices have become pippets of notes across a disappearing scale.

I glance down at the sliding notes, like flung arms and legs they are with tenuous grips on the score. Scorned by one, perhaps mourned by another, I too slip away.

But you fell into my memory and in the pits there you dwell unblinking. So I can never leave you.

Outside the french doors a Storm brews. There’s an apartment balcony two streets across from me, there was a man, shirtless facing the sky. He’s disappeared inside. The thunder has made herself known again, made me shrink, just a little, and wait quietly. Peeking wide outside from time to time to see if the rain has come.

And now the tin roof announces with a smile, here it is. And the smell of cooling bitumen drifts through the doors. And I breathe deeply.

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