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Charles Price's avatar

I was in the AF. I was remolding our first house. Our second child was on the way. My closest friend stopped by one night when I was working alone. He was going to be married. He'd finished his degree and had been hired as a coach for a rural high school. I confess a physical aspect to our friendship from, nearly, the beginning, in our sophomore summer. And he asked me to kiss him. As he stood against the wall, with his eyes closed, he looked so apprehensive, that I hesitated. It doesn't seem a big deal in these times, but in those, it was a life changer. I knew if I did, everything would change in that instant. And I wanted too. But I didn't. In the writing, he comes to me between the lines. And time is suspended in a kiss. To write it is to connect with the collective consciousness of every man. Do it for as long as you can. You'll never regret it.

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Charles Price's avatar

I do remember Carpenter. The Story of Eros and Psyche. But I didn’t read him. He was read to me by a friend in high school. We’d spend hours in his room listening to music, or him reading aloud as I drew. I was the working-class sod and he was the academic. I wrote free verse poetry then, and in flow of consciousness. It’d bring his mother to tears, overlooking I couldn’t spell. His home was my refuge. I don’t think I hid that I loved him very well from her. I was the one to eventually come out. I couldn’t help implicating him. He was my muse. And I was his weakness. It ended our fifteen-year friendship. They were scary times. Careers, marriages, and families in the balance. Carpenter had an influence. But not how you might think. I promise to stop coming to you in the night.

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