There were black flies buzzing about my head, when you and I gave a slight wave of recognition. I haven’t seen you in a long while. I’d really been hoping never to see you again- now that we were done with college, and upon leaving we mutually decided not remark any sort of goodbye. So it was, that we’d passed from each other’s lives.
But in this unexpected encounter, we have ruffled the undergrowth of the land I’d now decided to reclaim in peace. It was where I’d laid out to dry the spot cleaned fibers of my youth, and shook out the dust against the side of the old college apartment.
I knew looks on my back, so I was twitchy, walking the hiking trail stalked by my old friends- the benevolent and righteous observers.”You’d better get mean too boo”, and so it was then in my head the last time we spoke.
Since then I’ve become aware that calcified grudges are hardest to weed from the garden.
We were all just kids then, but old enough for my own paranoia to seep in to the fungal tissue of my brain, like spores which make good on their promise in age. In the growing moss on the spinal column, and raised heartbeat as we pass one another, there is a certain sickness in the growing mass which hopes to spread. But I know that no one will ever truly win this war of my own imagining.
I know there is no parade in the city, nor felled opponent at high noon in the desert.
Rather, there is a quiet field of black mushrooms, come up out of the ground, in the spot where our mutual hatred silently slipped past one day in July outside the library.