The Effervescent Sunset River Valley

by papalpigeon

Sink or...?

The Effervescent Sunset River Valley

We used to beat the streets of New York City,

begging to be heard by anyone that would listen but

we never hedged our bets.

Our screams, from the grafitied soapbox we sometimes shared, were in regard to no thing in particular—simply naïve whispers amidst the thunderous aplomb of the city.

Lightning struck three times that I can remember clearly:

Once; while in an effervescent sunset river valley.

Our tongues tied together underneath the big banyan tree
where we laughed and cried about everything and nothing,

shaded from the sun while it rained in spite of reality

and a rainbow has never been so bold and beautiful;

Again; while on the corner of and lost.

After wandering around the village,

heavily under the influence of mushrooms and marijuana,

where we sat for hours with our toes  dangling

over the edge of a cute bridge and in the storm, in the rain,

no one bothered us.

Finally, in that rudely precocious brownstone,

where I  stumbled off the couch and took a knee and you gave me your hand and I slipped a tiny diamond ring on your sexy finger and you said, “forever,”

and we got drunk off wine and called everyone we knew back home,

to tell them the news and

I felt lucky to have you and to call you my own.

The ring I gave you was mailed back home to me a few months later

in a plain envelope

with no note

 and now ,

it sits on my coffee table and

I see it all day long,

glaring back at me.