Wednesday, April 29, 2009
sand and ice
I open the plastic bottle, add Crystal Light mix to my water. lemonade. it's hard to swallow otherwise. just the water. just the water alone. closing the lid i shake the bottle like a snow-globe. tiny crystals dissolve and like magic I've changed it's chemistry.
I have this thing where i have to add noise to silence. nothing stays still to long. I sprinkle lust on boring situations, and longing, and panic and loathing. words.
dirty chaos, filthy regrets, radio chatter, clicking of keyboard, t.v sounds, a truck drives by, the squeal of brakes. a dog bark.
i haven't sit still for as long as i can remember. sand and ice and summer. what i can't remember i make up and what i make up become stories i tell to her in bed. lies are things we tell children, not each other. what we tell each other is what we believe is best not to hurt them. the truth is ugly and in most cases, I'm not much for it. some things remain true: how i miss it. how Ive never regretted us for one moment. how ill tell myself anything to make it through another evening, another summer, another winter, the silence.
in being still, i came close with her. but, only right after sex. most times after, id want to just leave whoever i was with. thank you, but i have to go now. let me exit without a fight. not make a big thing of it.
It was different with her. she's up to pee, sweaty and dizzy, then she is back holding an ice-tea. shit like that, instantly breaks my heart.
i'd not move, as close to still as id ever come. she'd place the tea on the night table. barely hearing the ice cubes clatter. she crawls over me and lays her head on my chest.
your heart, it's still beating fast.
it is now - this is what you do to me.
I close my eyes. she's ready to play again, her hand is there.
heart beat. faster. I'm up for it. for anything.