introspective periscope : peeking inside since Y2K ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- green beans and peas 11:16:49 - 2000-08-29 i wonder...do you remember the time in the kitchen? standing in front of the white Hotpoint refrigerator, I, with my empty patio black plate for the dish pile, I,tipsy on box wine, and you....why WERE you in the kitchen? You were probably helping me with something; seems you're always helping me with something. I wonder, then, do you remember what you said to me in a moment of seclusion from the masses in my living room? Do you remember? "c, you're sweating." "i'm nervous," I said, the wine answering too honestly before i could concoct an excuse for my perspiration. "i'm nervous." And you said something like, "i hope it isn't me making you that way" and I twitched out of intoxication long enough to deny it and I dashed out of the kitchen: I *DID* have a party to hostess, we're high society, you know. When it was all said and done, I hugged you goodbye and you drove your drive home while my own arms rebelled and fought against me, trying to strangle me for letting you go... but my arms are well trained for holding books and bags and pens and pillows. its been long enough that they can get by with the mundane and they don't need the company of the arms of another to prove their worth... so we got by just fine, for Christmas parties, even when held in July, render hearts too sentimental, too non judgemental, leaving me to fall in love to easily-- (he says I fall in love to easily). That was a month ago....a MONTH. Could I be riding this disasterous carnival ride once again? Am I destined to grasp the bar and scream through the climbs and descents you send my heart racing on, only to derail at the most intense moment, crashing into blackness? That was a month ago. I'm on a silver jet, a Boeing 737, 300 series, if you're keeping track of travel. They gave me my window seat, and blessed me with the rest of the row to boot, And I've got no complaints, only a book I can't concentrate on, fingers that refuse to crochet because my brain is on a people watching tangent, wondering what I'll really be like when I'm old, wondering if I could push some poetry HERE, wondering if I could win you with words, (because words are all i can command these days) wishing I had done something differently.... I mean what if...what IF I had just reached for your hand? These words I write on budget paper, are the words no longer available for selection in conversation, leaving silence over japanese noodle soup and seafood fried rice. I suspect I make too few references to green beans and snow peas in my work, because bumbled about them for twenty minutes... the rest of the words were working someplace else, I figure. So you've shown me your world.... all hardwood floors and bus fare, medical minds, and a bathroom medicine cabinet with no mirror, catching toothpaste splatters just the same, which you've claimed as your own. Do I like feet? yes, and yours are beautiful... but pale in comparison to your hands.... long gracious fingers, yes, I think I've always been the greatest fan of hands. You've shown me your world, and on top of that, you've struck me in a way that no one else has. it wasn't even spare change for bus fare, lugging the green monster suitcase for miles, buying dinner, or holding every single door for me... granted, thats all new to me, I guess I never thought I deserved it. But don't you see?! thats not even where your charm lies! Its the quiet patience when I'm running at the mouth about absolutely nothing. yes, absolutley nothing, but its so damned important.... If I've bored you, your poker face never showed it, baby. Its all so new and its all made me think too much... so do you remember once, when you wrote to me, "I know how to treat a woman"? God, woman, you underestimate.... and I'm damning myself for snoring beside you, but did you know the war that was waged in my head? fighting my arms to be still, keeping them locked close lest they reach out for you and give me away.... There was also my head warning me of your silver lining, and two years is more than just seven hundred and thirty days when we're talking relationships and if I hear her name once more, I'll scream, I swear it. Its on the brink of profound, this conclusion I've developed... so I offer you this while I try to wrap up my ramblings: why the hell is it that we don't see the passion laying right beside us? and why do you long for someone that doesn't deserve you? Seven hundred and thirty days is an awful long time to purge from your heart, but I want to sting her out with kisses, wrap you up in security beside me, and listen to you breathe. I'm just too nervous... just too nervous. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- .what came before. - .what happened next. a diamond at the bottom of the drain - 20 october 2017 |
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