the space above my ears.

A Hunter's Lament

Let us reread the story.

Draw the curtains back and shift the lights to blue.

I watch from the outside as you bite your fingernails in anticipation,

Waiting for the moment when the other she drops and I finally get what you think I deserve.

And all I can do is wait until the rubber ball hits the big red button.

All I can do is hold the camera up in horror as the buildings collapse in slow motion.

Everything Is replaced with TV static and VHS tapes stuck permanently on rewind.

It's the last inch of the rope.

The mind's end, where the sidewalk tapers off into nothingness.

And if you peek just far enough over the edge, you can count the picket fences and bits of the Berlin Wall floating aimlessly below.

Lean in a little further and you can hear the bats whispering secrets about you.

A little further and suddenly you are flat on your back staring up at a sky full of fire.

As the hopefulness leaves your lungs, the little farm in the countryside becomes clearer.

You can see the dinged-up Chevrolet in the driveway.

You can hear the dogs chasing each other about in the yard.

You can almost taste the pecan pie cooling on the kitchen windowsill.

Somehow, you know that this slice of heaven belongs to you.

You know that even though it was handed to you backwards, it's where the story was bound to come to a close.

And finally, the ringing stops.

The rainclouds in your sinuses dissipate.

You wake up in the summertime on a porch swing and clarity does not matter anymore.

Let go of vengeance.

Let go of bitterness.

You no longer seethe when you look at me.

Spite and forgiveness hang in the balance and we bite our bottom lips as they teeter uncertainly.

At last, they are equal.

We shake hands and look at each other one more time before I turn around and head for Terabithia and you go back to Jerusalem.

I can sleep at night now.

I am free because you chose misery over me.

As I drift off to sleep in the treehouse,

Miles away from the farm,

Our book closes with a crackle of finality.