Flash, no. 2
You can’t escape Grace, they told me. You’re made for each other.
It was good. Could hear the church organ blaring fortissimo, smell the flowers.
I left. Town, her, everything I knew. Mad scramble out west without a plan or clue.
On my back, on a woven blanket in cold Nevada desert, I gazed at the stars and found them mute. I found no answers.
I found out I missed her.
Came back chastened and ready, but I missed her.
I bring flowers to the stone every day.
Can’t escape Grace, they said.
They were wrong.