Laboring – prikcab (Ian Perlman)

Do you remember being left in the rain struggling for something to say?

You said standing there so helplessly, felt familiar somehow.

Staring down leftover droplets balanced on garden petals, it felt luck was about to fall your way.

You could never remember how it all worked out.

We grew tired of dodging broken memories that worked to block the route.

Being in the moment required kicking up a little dust to clear a path.

Laying together we watched shadows paint the wishes of tomorrow.

You asked me to take your hand and move with you.

We were caught staring at the ceiling looking to be set free.

Barely holding trembling smiles, awaiting tears that wouldn’t come.

Just as I never suspected, you left me stranded.

It never felt like work, but maybe it was destined that we wouldn’t get it right.

Promise never to turn your back to girls counting starfish on the beach. 

You can’t be certain that you will be back this way.

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6 thoughts on “Laboring – prikcab (Ian Perlman)

  1. Funny how one phrase can awaken a memory left to fallow.
    Your poem of standing in the rain does that.
    I was in Vancouver with my then-boyfriend (manfriend actually but nobody says that)
    It was raining. Pouring. We had one umbrella between us. We were standing at the corner of Robson and Granville when all of a sudden my man decided it was time to make me laugh. Or perhaps it was just a psychotic break. He says, in a very loud voice to no one in particular, “Stop it! It’s my turn to hold the umbrella. You did it last time.” “But it’s my turn to be out. You were out last week. Give me the umbrella.”
    And on he went. Talking to himself. In the rain.
    I laughed and laughed.
    And he kept the conversation going until the light turned green and we crossed safely to the other side and ducked into a coffee shop out of the rain.
    Thank you for reminding me of that memory. It really was delightful!


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