A Conversation in Winter


The body sometimes seems like cavities, and hollow space.
Don't be sad I am only a dream.


And then: Your best friend's father fell in love with your grandmother while your grandfather lay dying in hospital. And you feel in love with your best friend who was a boy and all you felt was sadness all the time.

Your uncle said to your father "you have no passion in your life"

Passion is only trouble. And then the trouble starts.


This is at the end.

You say to your best friend "My grandfather was all yellow. Did you know, I held his hand as he died, and it was limp and heavy. He smelled like piss, it was sad."
Your best friend replies, "Do you miss him?"
You say, "Not really. Is that bad?"

Your best friend looks out the car window at the blanket of snow that covers the street and everyone's front yards, looks at a beaten up letterbox at the end of a driveway. He looks back to you, where you look at him.

Your best friend says, "My father said to tell you he was sorry."
You say, "I bet he is."
He says, "I am sorry."
You say, "I know. I love you."

Snow has fallen on the car bonnet and you both stare out the windshield as two kids playing in the snow fall over, laughing and hugging.


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