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Champaign-Urbana Gymnopédie

Scott Garson

photo by Ian Bassingthwaighte

(NOTE: This is an "extra' gymnopedié, was written on command for the #11 Extras update. Tim Jones-Yelvington supplied the place, Champaign-Urbana. David Erlewine, M.T. Fallon, Molly Gaudry and Laura Ellen Scott each supplied a word.)

If I said that I needed to see my mother's grave, I must have meant something. Did you know not to question? You're good—I believe that you are. No sense in risking your hand in mine by leading us back to the words. Look there. A night buzzard. Or something. Here is the truth: I needed to flee that dorm room. I needed to have you ferry me out to this season of crickets and tomb-glint and pine and steps in the way of the girl I once was, heel-toe. Some secrets are never disclosed, but that doesn't mean they're not shared. In this we are even. I like: the spread of your hands. And your ribs. If I pinch at your lip with my teeth, it's to say, You're here. You're with me.