Friday, October 10, 2008

Keep your admiration still and hold your damn tongue. Look at the blue sky with blue-er stars. Hush your drippy sweet thoughts, they're too grand. In high school they said you were an idealist and that just won't fly. "Good luck, kid. Buckle your shoes, don't trip, you'll fall."
So, fine, then. You're on the ground. It smells good, like where you came from. You think about standing up going very fast by every face you know and do not yet, or will never know. So pretty, your face. So charming, your smile. They love you because you don't stay long.
Stay, he said. Stay, he didn't say, he just made you listen. You did not believe, but you stayed. You handed in your change for some layers and some boots that lace, no buckles. You felt small in his room. You felt comfortable on dirty sheets, not presently dirty, just stained. You saw pictures of her naked and she was beautiful. You didn't mind.
You just told him it was okay and role played. Now his father's ringing you night and day. "Is he okay?" Now his mother is miles away. "Are you okay? Are you okay?"
She saw you there, in brown and black and green and she loved you and your pretty smile and your sad eyes. "I know you, girl."
We traveled by foot, by our perfect shoes with holes and earth tones. We loved our shoes and I told us so. You ran fast and I touched the ground sometimes, and other times I just looked up, scanning the top half of the sphere.
You hid in the bushes by our house and I screamed for you. You pulled the blankets around, once inside, "come here, my sweet girl." you put me in them. I was small and so soft, you made me stay inside, warm.
"I don't want this."
"I can't do this."
"We are still us."

Nobody knows me. Nobody knows you. When people have voices that show their hearts are strained and all for show, I say "I hate them." You find their parts that work right, right enough for what you want, and you revel in their blindness.

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