"Airships"  by Jen Conley

When I meet up with Aidan on a warm July night in 1992, I am wearing my jeans, brown vest, and oxblood steel-toed Doc Marten boots.  He is leaning against the dulled silver railing just outside of the Camden Town Tube station waiting for me.   He stands there, dressed in black jeans, a velvet purple shirt and black boots—the kind the bikers from my home in New Jersey wear.  I walk out of the Underground, squinting my eyes and smiling. The sun hasn't set yet and it's already almost eight o'clock.  I can't get used to this entire staying-light-until-almost-ten o'clock-thing here in England.  And, of course, I am completely relieved he is there.      More...