one last dream

My sister lives in a prosperous, upper-middle class suburb of Des Moines. A neighbor two blocks down locked himself in his house armed with alcohol and a gun yesterday. The street was blocked off for most of the day while the police tried to negotiate with him. The man shot himself dead in his garage, leaving behind a wife and two children.

What an abysmal ending.

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At midnight I'm going to listen to Aretha Franklin sing "Never Let Me Go".

And I'm going to imagine, through the cold, that I'm slow dancing with a warm and sensuous body, drinking in her smiling eyes, gently venturing across her sacred lips, feeling the faint electric beating of our content mutual heart.

Happy new year.