This kind of day

This is the kind of day when anyone can be impulsive and dreams don’t need to be elaborate. The blue sky floats overhead and we think we could keep driving until we end up somewhere else. We’ll find a diner where they serve heaps of french fries, coffee, and pie and we’ll make friends with the waitress.


We could pack a couple of sandwiches and drive down to Sandy Hook. We’ll lie in the sun and dream of Italy with its cypress and olive trees. On the way home we’ll stop for ice cream at that place.


We could go fishing. We’ll follow the creek up the hill where we’ll find an old farmhouse with rusty machinery in the field. We’ll wonder why the field around the house is freshly mown and chicken out about going any closer when we see all the bees swarming around the door. We’ll follow an old dirt tow road back down the hill and find ourselves passing a secret cemetery. We’ll wonder what secrets are buried there.


We could cut class and go to Mendon Ponds. We’ll laugh as we watch dogs chasing Frisbees. We’ll drink too much schnapps, because we’re young and don’t know any better. It will be the last time we’ll ever be tempted to drink schnapps.


We could hike through the woods, scuffing our feet through the leaves, and search for that spring near the railroad tracks. We’ll eat crabapples and drink ice cold spring water and I’ll put my hands in your pockets to warm them up.


We could go to the park toward dusk and feed the ducks. We’ll walk around the pond as the sun goes down and our breath will turn to smoke in the air.


We could sit on the porch in the dark and try to recite poems from memory.We’ll wonder how we could ever live without each other.


That’s the kind of day this is.


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