The Silence of Memory

Your car rumbles east along the Cape,
headlights searching the blacktop
for your other life.

Memories erupt from a CD
and I appear, hand on your thigh.
A kiss, wet as the closing fog,
tickles one ear.

You brake, reach out to toss
aside my clothes, to fold
your body into mine, to draw 
my breasts into your mouth until
you are filled with me, but

the crunch of gravel startles.
The CD goes silent.
You rub your eyes to find
that only the rustle of sea air
marks my empty seat.

Pris Campbell
©2004

Art: Sunrise at Atlantic Beach, Fl 
      by Keith Tillman
      copyrighted and used with permission

Please click HERE to visit Keith Tillman's
website to view more of his photography
and find information about purchase.

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