by Tom Drury
The top is down, I shift the gears,
I roam around with wind-dried tears
And wonder where you are.
Then she walked down the sand path to the Gulf of Mexico and waded into the water. On the horizon she could see three lighted ships like distant cities.
Out past the breaking waves she dove in and swam with eyes open in the dark sea, and she thought of the big night fishes cruising around in the deeps with eyes like saucers and fanning fins.
When the water changed temperature at the sand bar she let her feet drop down and stood with the water shoulder high and turned and looked back at the shore. The cottage lights were like a village among the condo towers.
She pushed her wet hair back and waited there with her hands on top of her head and water beading on her face. Yes, she thought, they could live in this place. There might be good things to do here. And it wouldn’t have to be forever.
It’s a warm day late in the fall. Hunting in the hills, he finds an orchard he has never seen before, high and green in the afternoon sun. It is deserted, the trees are young and well tended. He’s walked for miles and as he moves through the orchard he realizes all at once how tired he is. He sits down at the base of a willow tree, lays his gun beside him. His eyes close, his legs unfold, and he breathes deeply.
When he wakes it is dark and cool. The moon is overhead. He has no idea how long he has slept. It feels like days. A woman in a long coat and boots stands looking at him.
“Are you all right?” she says.
“I am,” he says. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Not too late.”
“I must have fallen asleep.”
“Yeah, I guess so. I’m walking into town if you’re going that way.”
He gets up and looks around. “I don’t know what happened. I sat down to rest this afternoon and that’s the last thing I know.”
“It was a great day,” she says. “And it’s supposed to stay this way for a while.”
“What brings you out here?”
She smiles. “Well, that’s a good question.”
He picks up the shotgun. He has the strangest feeling that he knows this place, knows this woman. He figures it’s because he just woke up, that he’s still partly dreaming. But when he takes her hand it feels warm and real, and they walk down the orchard row with the moonlight on the leaves.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The author would like to thank Elizabeth Schmitz and Sarah Chalfant.