Carte Blanche

If you could say one thing
and have it forgotten by tomorrow
what would you say?

All day the words swirl inside you, in the warm April sun and throngs of Central Park revelers. What is it in confession that offer the faithful such relief? The deed has already been done. You may be forgiven, but there is no erasing the sin.

Your hangover reeked in the summery afternoon. She sat next to you on the great lawn eating ice cream and giggling. Some moments are unbreakable.

No free pass comes
without a cost.