introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K

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the departure and the only thing keeping me here

all the events of a day - twenty third of july, 2001-cities made of steel-

"shouldn't have got on this flight tonight."~joni mitchell

well. this morning. shouldn't have got on that flight this morning. everything about this place (save for the way a best friend knows another well enough to find a hidden key without having been told where it is) is enough to make me scramble and sweat. i'm not talking just a few beads on my forehead, a common sign of my frustration...i'm talking sweat that pours from pores (words don't make sense right now, exactly)....

i was standing on the curb. you know, after all of this time, i had heard of Images but i never really knew where it was. now i've got a picture in my mind. the man that kept coming out of and going into the place, taking care to lock and unlock the door with that certain gay flare that is so recognizable and proud and out and all of the things that we tried to be just a few years ago....the man intrigued me. but only for a moment. only til i started noticing the sweat. i am always second guessing.

but maybe i should start at a more clear beginning.

my nose ring had come up missing in a matter of five minutes. we were scrambling as it was already and when i reached for it and realized that it had either a.) washed down the drain (this, after a careful week of making sure that this exact thing did *not* happen) or b.) had been eaten by the little white dog that so terrorized my week with his relentless bowel movements. the dog's name is kaspur. thats right. homosexuality, wow.

my glasses were foggy in the bathroom as we crawled about and unscrewed the drain. i knew then that even if there had been seats available on that early flight we wouldn't have made it to the airport on time. my heart sank and soared at the same time and i have to admit to you that the thought of one more night wrapped up and tangled in the safety of your body did me good. still, you know that i always hate to be in the way. and i know, too, how you hate mornings...how you hate rushing...how you hate scrambling. and i knew that you'd been late for work last week on account of me and your addiction to the snooze bar (for i had kept you up late on all occasions) too many times for me to not feel just a little bad.

and i called the line again and the automated voice that makes those said beads of sweat form on my forehead in my aggrevation (i have always hated communicating with machines...nearly as much as i hate reasoning with people)said in its oh-so-polite manner that there were, in fact, no seats available on the overly large silver bird (plane, folks, plane.) for my child bearing ass and that i might consider finding another time to fly. and i looked at you. and i couldnt breathe for a moment in the mix of emotion and tugging at options. all of the seats were filled and going to the airport now would be a waste of two dollars (money that you and i need to put in jars and envelopes) for the parking and a waste of energy spent bobbing my leg in anticipation and mixed hope. i looked at you and we decided that i should stay one more night. and to think: i had already fallen comfortably into the respectable skirt and blouse. somewhat amused, basking and writhing in the (dare i call it?) feeling that to you...to you i might be just a little bit sexy...amused, i refused to change into more comfortable casual clothes. and later, i couldn't help but laugh when we'd come out of there and i realized that everyone must've thought we were good kids just coming home from an evening church service. and i smiled silently inwardly because you are my religion.

one more night we spent and a million lines of poetry flitted through my head as we sat on those front steps there in the darkness that seemed to creep and roll up at us like waves lapping at the shores of your mowed lawn. and you cleared it all away...those feelings and doubts that sometimes worm their way into my thoughts with myself. you made it all right again where there was wonder and curiousity. and you answered all of the questions i could think to ask. and you let me cry quiet tears and violent ones and your face glowed with a halo through them there in the light of one single lamplight. later, when i looked at the picture of you and her, i could see the youth in your eyes. he looked so young and vulnerable then and nothing like the wise man that i hold so close in the cold of air conditioned nights. its like i told you: i never could've appreciated you the way i can now had you come a moment sooner. you came at just the right time. and i love your balding head. i love the wisdom in your eyes. i love our co-dependence.

you see, last night....was another one of the greats. it was one of conversation and sharing and compassion and understanding....the kind for which you and i have been so famous. it was another of the greatest nights ever. and maybe if we'd rushed and scrambled like you hate, we could've made the flight. and maybe if we'd left the apartment in disarray, we could have gotten there and perhaps there would have been an open seat but if we had...i wouldn't feel the same this afternoon.

because you see: yesterday i felt the sorrow of my impending departure so heavily that tears wouldnt' even come. yesterday, as we made our brunch and sipped on coffee and sucked on cigarettes (thank you, by the way, for those you gave me this morning) i had so little to say because all i could do was feel sad. all i could do was feel. it always seems like we just need one more night. it always seems like the last minute joy we get to share is enough to tide me over til next time. and the next time. enough to keep me from imploding or combusting with the constant ache of distance between us.

which brings us to where i am now.

here, in his room at his desk and thinking in text on his computer....sometimes, i like the feel of unfamiliarity on my fingertips. that, and i had to get this out of me.

i slept ackwardly on the plane with your hoodie over my shoulders and my face nestled in the arms of it which were wrapped around me as if they were yours. the scent was hardly tainted with the smoking lung lounge of the airport where we'd shared our last cigarette of my visit. i slept and woke and slept again til we landed a smooth landing on the runway. i could smell the familiar scent of this town...the town that i have called home for so long now.

sometimes, i suprise myself. sometimes, i feel as grown up as your eyes or his business casual wear. sometimes, i feel a twinge of grownup in my walk or the way i know what to do now when a few years back, i would have sat down and given up.

i collected my duffle from the baggage claim. it was the one with too many clothes (i rarely get to take a weeks trip anywhere and always overpack) marked with the heavy tag.

"can i have a heavy tag?"

"no. not you, miss. the bag."

"oh. but i didn't mean....nevermind."

these days, my big girl jokes amuse even me.

i got my bag and i made the connections of busses into the city and out again to this apartment on the cobblestone road. it cost me all of the change you'd given me plus the rest of my own but i made it. and lugging my bag...it didn't leave welts this time because i sort of knew what i was doing. i just reversed the process.

but buildings are tall and the air was so hot. and i was unsure of myself. and i sweat. i sweat the kind of sweat that smells strange even to the sweating person herself...the kind that runs in lines along flesh and gathers in crevices and curves. i sweat percipitation in my aggrevation and self discrimination but the bus was air conditioned and it went away quickly when i realized i was almost here.

and soon, the best friend i love so much...the one that left the key where i could find it...he'll be home soon. and i'll want to hug him. and i'll want to talk with him. and he will be the only reason (my puppy aside, of course) that i will want to be here. he will be the only thing that will keep me coming back to this tall dirty city. and eventually, even he will leave it behind for better things.

no, this doesn't feel like home. its like i said before: you are home now. home is with you. and baby, i meant it when i said that when i finally get to stop leaving on these flights....stolen from you at sunrise or snagged away at dusk...i won't leave your side again. it won't be but a few months now...the dry run went so splendidly...and i'll be coming home.

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.what came before. - .what happened next.

a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017
baseball season to football season, abbreviated - 25 september 2017
the doodles - 11 july 2017
at arm's length - 4 july 2017
like a sea-mammal needs a bicycle - 30 may 2017

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