Red scarf (an exercise in points of view)

Had I been present when your scarf fell low,
I would have picked it up and put it on.
-Cyrano de Bergerac


1.
I wouldn't miss my buddy Marc's possibly-goodbye party, if only for the cookies that came out in warm batches all evening. As the porch dimmed, before gin started to fortify the iced tea, everyone (except Amanda, who said she was still shaken up from her favorite wicker chair overturning) climbed the back stairs, past the sumptuous laundry room, to watch the sun set. Cloud waves lapped over the Marin ridges just under the gold sun. As I admired the solar water heater and started explaining my new metal-sculpture concept, Naomi ceremonially unwound the red scarf from Julius' neck. The scarf weaved cinnamon-twist patterns as it spiraled toward dark bushes hidden by overhangs and trees. That evening, I paid more attention to the jigsaw puzzles in Marc and Mariëtte's give-away pile, and to flirting with Andrew, who'd just moved from Atlanta and was doing a summer Akkadian intensive; that scarf toss, though, was to inspire my next piece, Contortions.

2.
You never had time, always singing and playing the stock market. She's too scared to send you to no-return-land, the velvet spaces between the stars, the clay that ocean sits on. But I'll be going to heaven myself – Mammoth, anyway – and you'll have to sort out on your own your stereo speakers and plasma screens. Unwrapping the silk felt good, I had a flash like a neon bulb lighting up, like a gift angry at the dimness. Ciao.

3.
An end to villany, undoing ropes. The ecstasy of heart-thumping days went to auction; hope's fairy tale must move to the Otherrealm. What was taken can't be returned, but newness can sprout freshly confident. The message drifts in the wind; let whoever dares seize it.