Literary Work
Photo by Captblack76
Not Knowing STEVEN DUNCAN After Elizabeth Harlan-Ferlo Today was the fifteenth day of not knowing how you’re really doing. Because I can’t ask you now, I guess. Tomorrow will be the sixteenth. I’m not saying there weren’t opportunities (there were) when I could have asked. I certainly wanted to. I mean started to. Like when we stood still beneath Orion’s notch, just paces apart on the bouldered road, behind the fence of small talk we had built together. There was something about the dark we weren’t ready to encourage. I think we agreed or something. Because we’re not hurting each other anymore or something. Perhaps overlooking Dry Canyon trailhead, I should have shouted up an echo. There’s no question the mountains remember us.
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