For some reason I have a thing for guys of blue or brown eyes and of dark colored hair. And there’s a silence in the way our gaze meets from across the room, the way our clothing drapes, our bodies stir on fragile air. And as I blush, collecting my feelings into something I can hold and carry before it melts, I’ve come to love the burn of ice against my skin, the way it drips, tapping my toes rows nervously rolling as he looks my way again. The feeling you get someplace in your chest, this fluttering feeling when you have a crush, I live in it. And moments feel like hours that I feel like I could float up and grab the little hearts glowing red in their eagerness, waiting for the touch of warm embrace. There’s something in those doe like eyes that scream of spring, and something that drifts like autumn leaves and pumpkin spice that warms the body longing for respite in his knitted sleeves. And those scuff marked shoes he hid so well before their tapping. Maybe all it takes is a word, a gesture, a parting gift, words that bring us closer. But I find myself stunted with nothing to say that could truly express how I’m feeling for him. And maybe if I can’t put on that sweater built of courage there’s no future for us here. But I think that words come with time and open space. And that flowers can bloom from soft broken soil. And that memories are made from a beginning no matter how rough its edge is torn. And that that sudden skip of a beat keeps on beating and bleeding until the headwaters calm. Maybe fall is when I spring into his arms?
I want to get carried away in the wind and sail through the sky without a roadmap
I want to fall into a cup of water and swim laps around the brim
I want to feel what roses smell like and reach my limbs through it’s sleeves and pantlegs
I want to commune with the squirrels and find new ways to climb an obstacle
I want to dance with language and carry words along my hips
I want to nestle on a cloud and tell a story to the stars
I want to know you more than anyone and offer a thousand ways to make your day
I want to remediate my mind and watch it sparkle in the light
I want to get carried away in the wind
I am standing in the station connecting the lines of a map, routes that grasp the city in its palm, and spot a circled “you are here” in the center. I am here in the center of a storm, listening for the thunderous waves of wheels on tracks, waiting for the train. People fill the station like the tide out to busses rolling slow like whales who’ve just kissed the surface. In the wind, the gentle whisper of a stranger soars like a flame of leaves whipping the ground. A voice calls no smoking on the platform, and yet the leaves still burn the smell of cigarette ash. As busses come and go, the thunderous train glides to a stop, pouring passengers out and filling up on more, sloshing passengers to the back as it gains speed. As I’m pulled from the station, I watch the storm sail away as I await more of the city in the palm of my hand.
When will I begin to fall down from the clouds and roll in with the tide? Polishing stone and shell with the waves, a relic one holds close, refurbishes and saves. I’d like to wrap up the first snowfall, delicate and light, for safekeeping from the rays that bake asphalt wandering feet will fight. The breeze is as gentle as anything can be, Pushing grasses and tree fronds to wave in harmony. Then maybe somewhere there will be a place for me.
I could feel the words drip down my back, “I’ll be watching you,” how those daggers sting Tearing vantages through the cloak of midnight. If I could run, oh I would, but his gaze steps ever closer than comfort. Hum a tune that pulls me from this moment Wind a dance through my corset, let it scream on the exhale, Carry it with and don’t think twice.
As I walk into the vestige of a classroom, tossing the door shut behind me, a single chair waits as if expecting me to stumble in. I’ve seen some like this before, I think to myself, but it’s never seen me.
I preemptively wonder if it wonders what knowledge I hold, as I wonder the same thing to it. And in an instant, my mind is transported and I embody somebody completely new.
What is a chair to an alien race? What meaning could it possibly hold as they dig through the rubble of a raucous society lost to silence? Its ornate lines that curve in on one another might dictate many rules from which its handlers are governed. Follow the lines as they bend in three dimensions, all meeting on the same rigid plane. The flat base that jettisons outward, slightly, sagging down toward a single center carries the weight of the large mast that slopes back as a taunt. Beneath, four prongs stab at the ground, recounting the pain of it all. The tall knees buckle to the point of stillness. The structure has its own presence as it waits in this empty room. So much energy in its staticity; it commands attention. Should it move at any point you would want to have your escape planned. Four legs are faster than three. How long has it been standing over the wreckage and rubble? Did it help to create it? What is an alien race to a chair?
After the day’s end, when the sun loses power and the moon flicks on, you lay on your back and take in the beaming lights with a yawn on your breath, counting the stars, holes poked through blue cellophane, until they expand into a blur and the life you’ve been living in a dream comes to focus. Awake in subconsciousness you walk through the day, feeling every second, hearing every sound. You see people in all their diversity, you know their names. One foot in front of the other soon feels like a hundred, and whether you’re awake or asleep you’re unsure. Until a pivotal moment comes when you realize you’re in a dream and you can be and do anything. But don’t you feel that way when you’re awake? That you feel and sense everything, that you’ve made lasting friendships and forgotten a few, that you can do or be anything? I’m awakening to the fact that I must’ve been in a dream all these years, teetering on the edge of waking, liminal and sequestered. Unconscious to how the world really was until I woke up and finally knew. Is it all not just one giant lucid dream? Am I who I think I am to others? Who am I to think anything? Is it true that all this time I’d been asleep? I’ve come to understand the more I experience, the less I can make meaning of my experiences, it only becomes more convoluted. Is awakening not another state of dreaming? Somethings I see around me don’t make sense even in my wildest dreams. I guess a lesson you can take from your dream life is to live with less fear. Do and be what you could in your wildest dreams. Maybe life will start to feel more like a dream you create.
Pulling into my driveway I see the most terrifying red eyes beaming out into the blue night. Six pairs to be exact, looming in my neighbors yard beneath elaborate red lampshades. A cool shiver runs down my spine as I notice the sun bleached skeletons posted up in the soil, and dark red blood streaming down their legs. New decorations? I find myself hoping in my head. I try not to look away as my hands reach for my keys. A musky odor hovers into my yard as I carefully place my feet on the ground. A window on the second floor is lit in yellow and the silhouette of a man stains the curtains. My hands shake as I feel for the keyhole on my front door but a low laughter echoes out from the house next door. I slam my door shut laying my back against it and catching my breath. I’m safe, for now.
You are the pot to my rummaging roots, the spotlight to my stage, the arch to my relevé. The spine to my dance, The pin in my roadmap, the moon to my starry sky, the wind in my sail, the light through my window, the coffee to my mornings, the helium in my balloon, the umbrella to my rain, The guiding light to my ship.
Without all these things my life would have less meaning, Fewer things to write home about, Things to fill the corners of my room. No aimless wandering through the hedges that life blooms, Only you to lift me into living beyond arbitrary lines. It’s fine with you here, more than fine. Life would be lifeless without your rays of sunshine guiding gentle wisps down my skin. With you I’ll always have a friend. Breathe a little longer, you, Fill the gaps between my synapses A warm smile awaits you.