Fickle Flame


I’m sitting on top of a hill, looking down on Griffith Observatory and the crowds that have flocked to see 2017’s “American” Solar Eclipse. I hear cheering and see TV station’s satellite trucks lined up below and I’m wearing funny little glasses that make it too dark to see anything other than the disappearing sun. A time of new beginnings they say, they being astrologers and the like.

Thinking about endings and beginning and of the past year, I realize the man who may or many not have been the reason I moved to my new city, but who I haven’t seen once since that move, has finally become a memory instead of a torment.  Thoughts of him still cause a twinge, but they are rare as new love interests, work, and adventures keep them at bay.

“You have Venus sitting directly over Southern California,” my astrologer told me, years…

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