Mona Silver Creek
“...where and when," I shouted! Calling in the night. "Three miles up, in open land, behind stone walls and trees." I drove around, through moonlit fields. Legs ache. "Roll down the window, keep driving," wind's howling. In her apartment, the bar was singings songs. Time knocked on the window, but we did not look out. Sober enough, falling in shape, silhouetted against the sky, I drove down toward sunset lake, and there I learned her name. Her name was, Mona Silver Creek. As we lay out in the dim light- fragments of old love- the sky heavy with the absence of stars; I called out her name. She whispered, "I'll see you soon..."
Source Material: MacArthur, Robin. “Half Wild Stories.” Harper/Collins, 2016, pp. 22