--- C O R E Y M E S L E R
Even before itís quite dark enough Chloe comes to me with wide eyes and anticipation. Itís time to catch lightning bugs, she tells me, as if for the first time. Together we go out into the gloaming, the sky the tint of a frying pan, the front porch an oasis of between-world calm. Chloe hurries down the steps and looks about her, spinning madly. Theyíre all around us, she says, and I imagine she is right. But, for now, from this vantage point, higher up and further away, I see nothing. Only the putty colored air and Chloe, her dress a whirly, dancing.
© crossconnect, inc 1995-2004
published in association with the |
university of pennsylvania's kelly writers house |