“OK, here I am.  I’m running.  Am I chasing someone, or running away?”

There’s the sound of a gunshot from behind him, and the bullet hits a nearby car.

“Ok.  Running away.”

I hope I’m running toward something.

As these years passed the people below talked about the birds and their singing. They talked about why they were there, they talked about the songs they sang. At some point, nobody knows when, the people below decided that the birds were there because the empire was strong. When the empire fell was when the birds would leave, and not a moment sooner. At the time it was a happy thought, a reassuring thought: the birds had been there since the people below could remember, since their parents could remember, since their grandparents. The birds would always be there, and so would the empire.

The people below were safe, and the birds sang to them.

In the years that passed the empire went to war, as empires are wont to do. Its kings donned violet capes and weighty helmets, riding horses into battle after battle. Some battles were won, some battles were lost. The empire won the war. And the war after that. And the war after that.

In the towers of the palace, the white birds flocked and sang, and the empire was safe.

Among the people below no one really knew what had happened. They were, for the most part, happy. Their kings fought wars, took wives, had children. The empire was enormous, stretching thousands of miles in every direction… so huge that it had to be sectioned off and given to local governments to rule over. There was no date recorded in a history book. There was no definitive moment. No great defeat. No mass invasion. One day the birds were just gone.

The people below had never known a time without birds overhead. They blinked in the sun like new fawns, searching for the raucous feathered ceiling under which generations had lived out their lives. For weeks the center of the empire fell into unease, which spread gradually to outlying regions.

Until one day the birds were back. But they didn’t flock, and didn’t sing. They fumbled through the air silently, as if searching for something, and they disappeared one by one until by nightfall none were left. The next day the same thing happened, the birds confused, silent, searching, disappearing by nightfall.

Inside the palace, a young boy rose every morning under cover of darkness, under cover of secrecy. He took up his net and he took up his sack, and went out into the world. When the white birds abandoned the towers of the palace, the empire would fall. His job was to keep the towers filled with birds, and every day they disappeared by nightfall.

______
In England there’s a legend that the British empire won’t fall until there are no ravens remaining in the Tower of London. Ravens remain, but their wings are clipped.

I can walk up stairs again.

I don’t run anymore.

Would a kiss be cool, like
an ice cube on the tongue? Your lips
were warm and yielding. I was falling
into butter and cream.

I thought we were forever, but
by the fifth grade we were done.
Do you remember?

There is a photograph. Two boys stand
in straw hats, their arms draped
over each other’s shoulders, freckled
faces grinning into the camera. Behind them,
I remember, is a leaning barn, and an ancient orchard
scattered through pines. I can still feel
the summer heat blowing across the creek,
picking up the fragrance of tadpoles and rattlesnakes.
The older boy is ten, and is me.
My brother John is eight. He has already lived
more years than he has left.

I don’t know what wakes me up
this viscous afternoon. The phone
is screaming and the crazy dog
is barking like the end of the world.

Johnny is on his back in the middle
of our bedroom. Around him spreads
a puddle the color of apples. It is coming
out of his head. My father’s gun
is at his feet.

He vomits blood from his mouth and nose,
then stops breathing. He clicks.
Kneeling down, I put my hands in matted hair,
careful to keep my fingers out of the oozing holes.
I lift and turn. He gasps.

I am here in the dark, now, thinking
about hot summers and happy boys.
In the distance I hear sirens and some crazy dog
barking like the end of the world.

The two of you were already there and seated. I went into the bathroom and freshened my makeup, brushed my hair, pulled down my shirt and sucked in my stomach. Don’t show any emotion; you can always get up and leave, I told myself as the hostess walked me back to the table.

Not able to face you, I turned to her. “Hi,” I said. Glancing at you, I saw a profound sadness behind your eyes. A lot had happened since I had last seen you. You were a different man… very different. We said hello’s as I sat down and ordered a drink from the waitress.

As the evening went on, we renewed our friendship. Soon we were talking as though we had seen each other just yesterday. We tried to include her in our conversation, but we had known each other for fourteen years before we “lost touch” and there was a lot to catch up on. Finally it was time to go.

You and I walked out to the parking lot. I unlocked the car door and turned around to say goodbye. There you were. Slowly you came closer and gave me a soft sweet kiss. I melted. Oh!! No!! I had done everything that I could to try to teach my boyfriend to kiss like that. All this time, I had been trying to recapture Your kiss.

It was that kiss that told me how much I truly loved you. First kiss of a sort. We’ve been married now for eleven years. Still the best kisser ever!

Once you came to see me on my birthday. I was eighteen when we kissed. To hell with all my resolutions, they seemed so silly now. We knew our future was together.

I rose from my blanket and quietly tip-toed into the next room, stepping around the sleeping bodies on the floor. Silent; invisible. Someone moved and I froze. Wait… wait… Again I stepped without a sound until I reached the front door and slowly turned the knob. Pausing a moment before opening it, I stepped outdoors.

The night was a thick wash of fog. The far flung light from the street lamp was suspended in the air around me, a heavy yellowish presence. Immobile. Waiting. I could hear hushed sounds from somewhere on the far side of the dank mist. Surrounded by the smell of the ocean and drifting fog, I was shielded from the rest of the world. I could neither see nor be seen. No prying eyes. No questions.

Walking to the front sidewalk I turned left and paused. Looking briefly around and listening, I could not detect any movement close by. No breathing. No witness. No one. Satisfied, I continued down the concrete walkway into the diminishing light.