Kerouac Rules for Spontaneous Prose #17


Write in recollection and amazement for yourself

Ahhh–the lighting of the day was non-committal. And I looked across the room at you as you looked outside. Outside was cold and the cold came inside through some breeze you created when you finally spoke. When you spoke, I felt the memory of you crack the ice that hung between us. The You of then became the You of now and I realised that I did know you —let alone love.

“What do you want for breakfast,” you said.
“Just send Gigi up with some toast and a black coffee. I’m not fussed,” I said.
“Right,” you said.
“Are we up to anything today?”
“Dunno,” you said. “ Like what?”

Over the road, they were making plans—or perhaps had already made plans. The family car packed and loaded–They had been shouting, laughing, happy, united. Warm.

“Nah,” you said. “Too cold. No money.”
“We just got paid.”
“Bills need to come out,” you said.

Around the corner, they had too many kids. But they were always going somewhere. These houses are far too small to stay in.

“Walk the dogs around the pit?”
“Too cold up there,” you said as you looked up at the ceiling.
“Well, if you have nothing planned, I think I’ll just take the kids to the library or something.”
“Ok. I may go see my dad. I don’t know.”

When you sat at the computer, I loaded the kids and the dogs into the car and took them to Matlock. We had hot chocolate outside of one of the shops after a walk on Lovers Lane. There was a wasp that pestered us a bit. We finished our drinks and collected our things and began to make our way back to the car park. The kids ran a bit ahead, laughing and teasing each other as I untangled the dog leads. I smiled down at Whippit and Bronsk. They looked up at me in their happy doggie smiles.

“See? It wasn’t too cold…” I whispered.

About A. E. Wallace aka [EL] Selkie

Ann Wallace holds a degree from the University of Texas at El Paso in Mass Communications and minored in Creative Writing. She worked at the NBC Affiliate Newschannel9 in El Paso, was a journalist for the El Paso Diocese Catholic Newspaper, held writing workshops with The Tumblewords Project, performed as a Slam Poet and published poetry in small literary magazines. She is now an ex-pat in the UK where she lives, knits, games, works and writes. View all posts by A. E. Wallace aka [EL] Selkie

2 responses to “Kerouac Rules for Spontaneous Prose #17

  • robertsonwrites

    That photo alone makes me want to escape civilization and go explore the countryside – heat, cold, or otherwise.

  • aewallace2013

    It was a stunning view, this. I took it about this time last year just as I was leaving work. It looked like Narnia. I remember thinking of the Robert Frost poem and saying out loud that line: “…and miles to go before I sleep.” It was magical.

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