I Drew You a Map of Forever on the Kitchen Floor This Morning (Part One)
I'm afraid that if you look at a thing long enough, it loses all of its meaning.
Let’s hit the fridge first if we are looking for the meaning of life and all.
Ketchup bottle/ almost empty/ maybe enough for one burger. I pick it up and stare at it and it comes to me quickly/ swiftly/ as if it was all meant to be. I think about the other day, the 4th of July, and the venison burgers I made on the grill. I also made a beef tenderloin that had been given to us by a friend of ours who owns the farm where me and Arle got married a few years ago, but in the end I used too much sea salt on the coating mixture and then I overcooked it because I was all caught up in playing cornhole with Arle and her family and some of the kids. And just like that I’m reeling backwards already. Holding the ketchup bottle and letting it float me up into the memories that make up my life.
In my hand, the big plastic mini-jug of Heinz makes me think of the red stains in the corners of the mouths of the young souls who inhabit my world. Our world. This world I share with her. With Arle. Our existence together. I think of her smile. The freckles on her shoulders. It seems as if we have cornered forever somehow/ like we won’t ever have to let go of this togetherness. But I guess we will someday. Everyone does.