That Glorified Brick Wall

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There is not a moment that I dwell on quite so much that is as unhappy as this. He isn’t the subject of my daydreams because he is sweet to me – no, he is not, by any means, anything remotely sweet. Honestly, it’s probably his perplexing coldness that keeps me soooo… enthralled. Summer is not his season. Smiles aren’t his thing and in no way would warmth ever be his feel. He was somehow assigned, by mere happenstance, the crisp excitement of autumn. The tossing-your-head-back-laughs of summer are turning over to the all-bundled-with-anticipation and I’ve-got-a-secret smiles of winter. And of course I spend more time inside, more time reading, more time in black, more time in my fur coat. In some weather it’s more comfortable to just be a little bit perpetually sad. And this is his season. This is the season when we met when I was so distraught and alone. This is the season for coffee and wearing seriousness and choosing to get cozy in the cuddles of my own arms. November in my room. My old room, my room before it’s palace-like, kitsch, grandeur was masked in white paint and everything went blank. Around my messy blonde head floats a handmade, purple flower crown and he is wearing black shoes, black socks, black pants, and white shirt. I TURN AROUND and look at those BRIGHT bluuuuuuisshh green, greeeeenishh blue river rocks that occasionally paralyze me and they poooouuuur open and my heart holds its breath!



LONG PAUSE.

(This very instant is forever and nonexistent all in one. It is important that time is given for the mind to linger on the image of those heartbreaking eyes but also to meditate and clear itself of expectation in anticipation of the nothing that happens next.)


This moment is so small, so indistinct, microscopic. And the microscope for this moment is my mind with all of its experiences and all of the goddamn time I’ve spent mulling and twiddling and fiddling with my fantastic ideas of this very moment occurring in front of me. This is the very microscopic moment when the aperture of the instant camera of my eye is alerted and the waves from the lights above absorb, reflect, and re-emit off doze shiny-a** river rocks and an automatic exposure occurs and my heart doesn’t sigh its held breath but pump its fists with fervor!
Just with two sad shiny gems bearing down on me – I never get to know what they want, or don’t want to say. I only know that when there’s a slight turn at one of the corners of those lips while those eyes relentlessly beam, I feel not only accepted and okay but embraced. And maybe, if I’m lucky, I will get one of those – embraces that is. But in this daydream he leaves me in that precarious elevated state, on a pedestal and I watch so, so eager to see what will happen and if I will finally get some relief. This relatively small moment of eye contact is suspended, spinning silently in space because this relatively small moment of eye contact is all I have to hold on to. It is all I ever get. This is where he cuts me off every time.
I think my mantra, “Turn, turn, turn…. TURN AROUND BRIGHT EYES! (so ah badiez facin’)”. I see hair turning and skirts a twirling….. alas it is so obviously unreal – dreams be dreams. That scene is too happy, too picturesque, too summery. We sit here stone-faced wondering what good feelings must have existed that brought us together in the first place and I keep coming up short. But I am throwing away self-preservation. This is today and today is October and October is now and the season is autumn and The Autumn is The Now and ¡Jesu(s) Cristo! how it excites every electron in my being. This raw, river-rock LOOK is as ripe as the Autumn’s air. I love it. I love this moment. Although I would say that I don’t quite care for the moments before and after and in between but ayyyy… Oh. O, this microscopic moment captivates me.





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