phantom other

here we were all those years ago. some spinning like tops while other spun like ballerinas, hands over head in a soft arc-- an ever so slightly protected bubble. enough to shelter themselves and still let others close. (this is a range i have yet to master.) but we were there, and whether toys or dancers we were all chewing. sucking out the moment's pulp, pulling off the last bloody tendon, not caring if bone chips lodged in our throat. through the spinning and digesting came a song. a humming that was joined by one whistle and two claps and some off key singing. and for one beautiful second, or month, we were a tuning fork. struck, held steady&buzzing, held up for consideration & quiet admiration. held until silenced and put away.

that palpable clarity we held in our hot little fists. like greedy dogs we ran home and dirtied our paws digging. like guilty thieves we checked over both shoulders. like old ladies, nervous with heavy cash, we stored our treasure. to a hole-in-the-ground, we devoted our precious findings.

we abandoned. we fled. we stilled.

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every now and then i'll hear the bees' angry whispering, or trip on an unlikely groove under foot, and pretend it's our buried treasure nudging like a phantom other.