When I awoke and went out to my car this morning there was frost covering it. It is the first frost I have seen this year, but it very well may be the last. After a weekend, it is somewhat of a delight to get up on Monday morning, usually cranky, and see the world bathed in that refracted light. I came on in to work with angular sun all around, and down the street and under the buildings and tunnels to where I park. The light got blotted out. Everything was artificial. I thought of Mexico again. I haven’t thought about it in a while. My thought was selfish, it was, once again, of you not being in this town. I haven’t really felt a whole lot of sorrow in the last few days, but I did in that moment. This is not something that I haven’t already told you. I don’t want to feel like I am writing the same words over and over. I came out the other end of the tunnel and into the light. I dried my eyes of their light moisture, decided to smile, and started...
Last night seems like a dream to me now, especially as I have spent the majority of the day alone here – not bad, but just alone. You in that motley dress seems like something that cannot be anymore, not here, or for me. Those boot should only be something that stomps over my heart. You across the table from me, even at that oppressive restaurant, was like I was on a date with Audrey Hepburn. The weird thing about all of this, G, is that I have been through enough therapy now to strip me bare; to strip my thoughts about me and you bare. I realize now that there was a dependence, at least on my part – an addiction to you that probably was unfair to both of us. I have been led down a path that allows me to view these facts a little more objectively now. I have been stripped bare. The fact is, though, at the end of every day, I still am so in love with you. I talked to Steve about this recently and he finally acquiesced. I feel that I may have finally taught my therapist something after all of the lessons he has given me. After all the bad, and anger, and frustration, and humiliation, and depression that I have felt after our breakup, I still love you, want you, and think that you are what I have always searched for. This has been liberating for me. To know that I was not living a lie, is incredibly freeing. I am glad that you are finding God again on...
You give me wings (not Red Bull)I may ruin it, but I received your text message tonight, and felt like jumping for joy. I was at the Winchester playing darts for the first time in three weeks when I pulled out my phone and you were there. How many times have I asked you to have dinner with me? How many times did you say that you did not think it was the right timing? I hope me writing this doesn’t make you think that the timing is still not right. I don’t know what else to say but, yes, yes, yes. I know it will be an attempt at being friends ultimately, but I remember the last time that we had dinner was when my parents were in town in September. I miss eating with you, G. I guess that is not all I miss, and I am sure you still miss things too, but dinner was 90% of the time so nice. I still drive by Trinity Place on my way back from Steve’s office every Tuesday now. I think of the irony as I run on the opposite direction from the way I came in 2003: rolling down Ponce and over to find you, such beautiful thing, waiting for me – unwittingly or not. I think of drinks at Carpe Diem, and dinner with my mom there. I do not know where to take you tomorrow night. There’s a side of me that wants to go to Tijuana Garage, but that place has has vanished since we parted. There’s a side that wants to go to...
Veins of the world reach up to heavenThe weather forecast is ominous in this city tonight as the tornadoes are impending and the sky has given up its full moon. I have the windows open to either avoid the crashing of windows or to feel the storm come inside to become part of me. While the maelstrom boils my heart sits here, content finally, and wants nothing more than a kind word, if even that. I am a transparent eye through which all things do, or can, flow unimpeded. And I can feel the cleansing spirit of the night, or this time of the year, as I ask another questions without asking that question to you, and you do not hear the question or you do, but choose not to answer. Am I talking to myself? or is there an echo in this place where I sit alone. I look on the face of God tonight, the face of that full moon, and think of sacrificial stuffed-animal lambs, and even more, the spiritual awakening. A coming whole in the middle of a tempest in a teacup, as I want nothing more, and I want everything. My mind can pause as the blood pours over me. I become washed in that blood. I feel free. Tomorrow will be sunshine. I will flash this crooked smile upward toward you as you hover there glowing, beautiful, and...
Last night I saw that you were back in town and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was like order had been restored on McLendon. I don’t feel like my end of the street is waving around in the air so much any more. I am glad you got away. I am glad you are safe. I am glad you are...
“North Carolina is a vale of humility between two mountains of conceit.”
I caught myself, this morning while having a banana for breakfast, standing in front of the photo I took of you at Ashley’s wedding. At rapt attention, and a bit of zoning out, I stared at that photo. You are so beautiful, G – radiant, shimmery, a real presence. I guess that’s what I wanted you to know. The most beautiful woman in the world to...
Tonight is lonely after arriving back home from hockey. This street, without you anchoring the other end, seems to be off-kilter, and this end of it just undulates. With neighbors coming over to act the ass in front of those folks that brought me into this world, I wonder what is the point? What makes me believe in mankind, or what you and I once held so dearly between us. I know that the bed will be cold. It always is since you left. I want to be strong, G, pretend like I can live without you. I can, I know this now, but I try to play it cool, when the longing comes, I try not to scream, Come back to me, Come back to me, baby, Baby, please, come back to...
My dad and I made it down to the market this afternoon after going to Stone Mountain. I needed cigarettes, I need to quit. We crossed the spot where you carved our initials into the wet cement. I saw dad look at it. He saw me look at it too. It doesn’t hurt as much now when I see it. It hasn’t for some time. There have been times when I have walked down there that I don’t even think to look at it. I always think about you not being here when I am walking up the hill back home though. I think about the times striking out for the market for frozen pizza, cigarettes, soda, etc. I liked doing that. Still do, but it was better when I was coming back to you. While at the market I suddenly had a craving for Orangina. I could not explain it really. I never really crave the stuff even though it is tasty. I bought a big bottle and am now sitting on the porch writing, after remembering that you told me, right after moving in here, that I could bring you Orangina any time I went to the market. I did for awhile. Remember? I would have brought home a truckload today, and pulled it up the hill with my hands, if I it could’ve caused you to be waiting on the sofa for me when I got back. I get on with my life, but I can’t say that the fantasy of us having another shot has really dissipated all that much. Have fun in Sparkle this...
There’s this DVD that I own that I need to sneak to you now, in that way in which we share things these days, that involves Townes Van Zant, Guy Clark, Steve Earle and others in Texas in the 70s. A black man cries as Townes plays “Poncho and Lefty.” I have this day off of work and have been reading and hanging out, and wishing that I could hear you sing “Katie Dear” to me tonight. I guess I have been missing you. But, is that so...
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