Interlude

My view of what it would be like being a character in a story with someone writing my life

Eastlake, Ohio

Perhaps the last warm night
on this October evening off the lake.

Maybe this scene includes you and I,
we are part of the story
not by accident.

The writer,
decides not to place
our characters in a clearing
of the woods under a starry sky.

Perhaps she is editing the events. What stories
have you told that led you

to the small town of Eastlake, with the wind whispering
around us?
How did this scene go? If I say your mouth on my lips...

the crickets chirp in delight, incessant bugs

that days from now will mate and die. If I say your hand...

and the moon shines through the trees, who's to know
our secret place--dark figures,

becoming one under pale rays of the moon.