so darling you see the stars

today, the celebrity sun with it's anxiousness written out on the sidewalks and blocked by tree branches: calmness resides beneath the willows. eveywhere i look, days are just going by, passing like cars that hiss spittle from puddles on pedestrians, seems like life has run us over. seems like life has let us go.

in the daylight i walk, imagining your age-old lovely stares that catch the wind beside you and how you smiled make me shiver how you laughed made rivers run

i'm straining my eyes now into a squint that seems like you're closing in, things will get better, some broken skies will close, wounds will weld shut and eyes that close will be closing somewhere else benath some other ceiling, staring at the motions of some other ceiling fan: this is the history of losings, the ctalaogue of memories that cannot be purchased, that cannot be gotten through. we need satiation, salivation to keep the desert from taking us apart, limb by limb. the mental teeth of our lovelife are falling out and i am here, quiet; alone but not quite lonely. sullen-ness.

waking up this morning was a world away. laying in bed, a cigarette between my lips i remembered how you'd just grab it from my jaws and take it to your lips. we could be awake for so long without a word, closed eyes. i thought about watching you turn your courdoroy inside out to iron it, the way your tiny arms slid down the legs like sleeves and you pulled it through: you always pull through.

these bed covers that once covered you in your little pink sunshine underwear where you counted lovers on your fingers and told me where i was in line so sweetly like i was a definative, a memorable sort of moment, a place that holds itself for me and years of wandering brought me to you, lifetimes made you home for a little while.

i woke today with visions of you climbing from the bed where i napped to run an errand (we were watching wonder boys and i was sleeping) up late is always how it ended up with you and me. this morning i wanted to have been up late with you again.

"okay," i said to the guy at the counter when i picked up two packs of camel lights and walked out (he asks how i am like it's part of a speech he's working on) and i don't feel much like helping him practise today, don't feel much like anything at all: on mornings like this i just try to keep on walking until the blend of you and me is washed from my bones by aching muscles, a long day

this is nature the way it happens to be this life the way it's meant to be: a buddha sits quietly on the lawn, a man nearby is doing tai chi and i am hardly awake at all, stumbling through. i miss your calls in the morning to say you liked how i talked when i was half asleep. i miss the leaves crunching beneath our feet. i miss gram parsons and sitting on the sofa my fingers on your belly: the profoundness of your flesh still awes me

(now i have it only in memory to watch you move)

and i've lost my subtlty somehow and i want it back, want you back this morning. i found a letter i wrote you when you were on your way to london this time last year and i missed the way the sun felt those days, the way the night just folded into one less day until your back- i missed you and you were only out of town for a few days, (this morning is a series of silent wails, a row of patterns i can't containso they contain me so they contain me so they contain)

-long silence filled with drawing breaths and silences made of nothing-

there's a sea of wrong numbers coming my way these days and i am lost within them, i am falling through clouds that shape themselves after you: these sheets once wrapped your body, these arms once held you close and the difference now is so quiet i can't hear anything.

those long minutes spent watching your wiggly bottom as you walked to the bathroom from my room, watching you come back and crawl back in beside me (how when your eyes closed all of the peace in the world seemed wrapped in you) i spent so many nights trying to imagine your dreams trying to understand the way you came to be and maybe that's what i'm still doing

i'm here and missing you is like a puzzle i can't seem to get together, i just have peices, here and there: found another sequin this morning from that skirt you wore and wondered when the last time you wore it was.

it's light out and i can't see the stars, but i remember staring at them with you, your hand in mine on walks through parks and parking lots (today is a part of how it happens)

i miss your voice like deserts hear stories about a thing called rain and how sweet it was (to be the reason you smiled sometimes)

this day just won't let up and i'm here writing this so maybe somewhere you're watching the sky, waiting for the stars to come through: making magic of existence. and it will for you....

2004-06-20 | 12:24 p.m.
0 comments so far