the coastergirl diaries volume thirteen

i was staring at her hair and she was scribbling a doodling for me. I�d been neglecting work. she�d failed her classes at school. but here I was, staring at her hair. she made the world okay. it was getting longer and it fell down over her eyes while she stretched her hand to tell me secrets written in felt tip pens on index cards. I still remember the way it was to watch the moving of her hand, slow across the universe tearing me from myself and letting me know that even a doorway was beautiful. I fell in love with life when I fell in love with her.

the lessons had grown a bit more sparse and this was bothering her I knew. I was conflicted. it was all so fucking silly looking back.

her: what�s wrong?
me: you know what�s wrong.
her: conflicted?
me: always.
her: what is it specifically?
me: I love you too much.
her: how can you love someone too much? (everything was so simple when it slipped from her lips and floated out and into the space the rest of us live in.)
me: I can�t be your teacher and love you this much.
her: why not?
me: I just can�t.
her: but why?
me: I have to be objective to teach the things you need to know.
her: you can be objective and still love me like you do.
me: don�t be na�ve.
her: sorry. I just don�t understand why things can�t always be the way they are now.
me: nothing, no matter how beautiful it is can last. all things are impermanent. the question is me or you.
her: me or you?
me: do I do what I want, or what you need.
her: I just want you.
me: I�ll figure it out.

I did. the choice was me. even now I couldn�t tell you if I wish I�d chosen her or not. I wanted her. I needed her in my life. and this is the bane of all things holy. need. I knew that I would rather have her next to me than have her learning from me. I knew that if it meant only one more chance to smell her skin one more chance to hold her hand in mine and look into her eyes and know that we both meant it. I would give all the earth and it�s heroes and gods for a chance to look once more into those perfect eyes. eyes watching god. proof of god. nothing like that could come of chance.

then I wished I could be the god who carves out women stretches gazes across sunsets and lays sand and air and spirit all together and forms an intricate creature so unique, and maybe once, just once, in all the millions, I could make one like her, and know that it was good to be god, just to see a perfect face traced in sand and built of my own sad attempts at art. sometimes even god gets it right.

2002-09-25 | 2:54 a.m.
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