Words will keep us together

Fiction, musings and all things writing by Gregory T. Janetka


tonight is one of those rare nights where she walks without a destination. yet, if you ask her if one can walk without a predetermined destination (re: desire), she will flatly deny it. the end she seeks is mental, not physical, yet it is the physical which helps her along to that which she cannot name but which she seeks nonetheless.

the streets are quiet – it is dinner time for most. a lone jogger crosses her path, a few children play a game they are still inventing the rules for. the houses do not move, do not allow themselves life, only the appearance that, at  one time or another, life has (or will) flourish here. they appear as movie backdrops to her. their lives, loves, deaths, hates, furies, joys, and passions tucked away to be shared with only a handful of people. the great majority of houses are this way – a few will open their stories to a somewhat larger circle, and 1 or 2 will make headlines, but for the most part, they remain silent, brooding. old phonograph records and yellowing photographs will soon be the only tangible evidence that this was called “home” before.

a father is teaching his son to swing a baseball bat, a breeze brings the leaves to life.

she walks home, uncertain of where she has been, and uncertain of where she will go, but with a sense of the prose of life in her heart.

-May 22, 2011


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