Urban longing by Michelle Elvy

‘Come on down,’ she said and he did. Hopped right on a plane after a two-month romance which began online. The electricity pulled him right round the globe, from the safety of the frozen north to the uncharted waters of the South Pacific.

It was good, too. They surfed on virgin beaches by day and watched phosphorescent dolphins by night. He was lulled to sleep by the sound of midnight waves and her deep sea voice. She was soothed by his big man laugh and laughed at his big city stories, the ones with Lenny, Scanio, and Bruce.

But soon the red curry sun and coconut cream love wasn’t enough. He found himself longing for home.

‘You could come with me,’ he said, ‘skate down my favorite hill with a view of Manhattan, see the world from the Staten Island ferry, eat lemon ices.’

She puckered her lips, thought — how could you not love a place called Bliss Park?

‘Yes, I think I could,’ she whispered.

He told more of his street where polka and soul sang on the same summer breeze, where a foghorn came through his early morning window — the same foghorn Walt Whitman heard when he was writing. He described all that he longed to share with her.

She wrapped her blue shawl tight around her shoulders, leaned into him. She loved these stories of Whitman and polkas and Italian ice. But they belonged to this Brooklyn boy, and she belonged here.


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Filed under Michelle Elvy

11 responses to “Urban longing by Michelle Elvy

  1. Love this line in particular: “He told more of his street where polka and soul sang on the same summer breeze…” This is so soft and lovely, Michelle, and by the first few words, “Please come to Denver with the snowfall…” was singing in my head. So wonderfully sad.

  2. Ahh…the world to which we truly belong. This one has deep pathos that ring true for me. And I have to wonder, with so many tragic souls displaced, or living as refugees, not by choice, how many people are pondering the same questions that come up for this couple in your story. I love that this one comes at the end of yet another great collection this week, Michelle. It feels a great, sad and ponderous fit, for me, here.

  3. Len Kuntz

    i love the imagery, the colors and tastes and smells–red curry sun, coconut cream love, Italian ice.
    well done.

  4. Yes!! I was worried she was going to go with him … was so glad she did not. Phew! I guess that attests to the power of your story, ay … as they say in NZ!

  5. Kim Hutchinson

    So touching. She knows who she is and is not, but it’s still sad.

  6. perhaps they’re destined only for that particular moment. like how you’ve captured the impending split and the inevitability of this.

  7. Beautiful. My favorite line…
    “But soon the red curry sun and coconut cream love wasn’t enough.”

  8. Kelly Grotke

    nice tension between stories and belonging, I like that very much

  9. Wonderful sense of yearning. How to love out of place? Red curry sun – perfect. Love often blooms in exotic locales, and fades once upon return to Bliss Park. Peace…

  10. Al McDermid

    This is so sweet, and easily one of the best this week. It conveys so well the idea of ‘where one belongs. I strange idea for me really, as I have no idea where I belong.

    On another note: you guys really should give yourselves ‘the top of the page’ at least once, or perhaps thrice. :)

  11. Pingback: Week # 30 – Urban convert | 52|250 A Year of Flash

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