The Wheel

Were their lives prearranged, I wonder? But how might that be possible? I may or may not fear the truth. Actually, I don't feel much of anything at all. Not anymore.

Our fate, for that matter, may have been sealed eons ago, the turn of some monolithic cosmic wheel the deciding factor. But, where's the point in dawdling in such metaphysical claptrap? Yet I still can't deny I saw something when, in that brief moment, I studied her closely for the first time.

She was so young - in appearance, at least. Her face, set just so, affecting an innocence that mirrored the little boy's perfect features exactly. Once she became aware I was watching, I doubt anything missed her attention, the corners of her mouth curling, jawline raised ever so slightly to expose her flawless throat ... for a moment I imagined she meant to offer it to me, like ripe fruit for the taking. "This can't be," I thought, my cheeks flushed and hot. "What the Hell am I thinking?"

I hadn't looked away, however. My eyes were captured by hers - blue, crystalline, inescapable - no shame or remorse laid there. But there it was again! I couldn't be so sure. Was this some sort of clever deceit? Nearly imperceptible - though I knew I had aroused it - an intuition, conjured from deep within her most intimate and revealing feature, consciousness, beyond her years, or even mine. An expectation perhaps, belying calm wisdom and yet an awful knowing. Clumsily, I turned aside, made some excuse and walked away. Yes. I was certain now.



autumn crows
languidly inspecting
the old school ground



;;;