Friday, March 18, 2011

From Out of Nowhere, Liston Davis Walks Through The Door

I caught a glimpse of an old friend in my mind's eye, and goose bumps shot up my arms. We were on shore leave together in a foreign land more than twenty five years ago. That number, the time gone, the memories blurred and mixed with neglected friendships trigger that feeling of the bottom dropping out again, regret for everything lost, longing for all that has gone by, a sudden and acute loneliness. It's too great to face - almost better not to remember - just put your head down and continue the march. But I'm glad for the flash of memory today - a Polaroid someone snapped of you and I passed out in folding chairs on a bustling sidewalk in Hong Kong the morning after something I can't remember. I was just a few days past nineteen.

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