Tonight's Poet Corner: No Words For Now
No Words For Now by Belinda Roddie I stopped talking on the car ride home after we stopped at a run-of-the-mill grill that smelled like garlic bread and grease. We were discussing our futures and the end of the world. I stopped talking once you started crying, because I had brought up the size of a cat's carbon footprint. We would get a furry feline friend, I promised you that. Maybe a tabby or calico. One that liked getting scratched behind the ears. I stopped talking and started singing instead. The stereo buzzed along with my strained voice. To the left, blue trucks lined the telephone poles, and light poured from panels like we were reflecting the sun off sheets of steel. Then I got quiet, and as we pulled into the driveway, your eyes were a little drier. "I just needed to cry for a bit," you told me, and I understood. The air was chilled by the hands of an arriving autumn, bay water running through the canal beside our apartment windo