or else somehow

Here is how it happens: I am thinking about the great truths of love and understanding, the collecting of thoughts and arrangement of them to the final understandings of fault and fiction in romantic urges and then you�re there, creeping into my mind and taking over, you are slipping over my head and around my body like water droplets from a tsunami. I am a birdcage for the wanting of you. I imagine, in soft colors, the outline of your eyelids, the motion that is no motion of your brow. The patterns of my mind that I have routed into orders and logics is disappearing and reappearing as water to mist and back again. I am the comings and goings of all things related to loving you, craving you against my skin. My thoughts flutter and coast like the wings of all manner of bird and I am seeing, behind my eyes, your hair, the way it rests on your shoulders. The serenity of your skin. I am seeing hope in the future of taking my hand in yours: indeed the answer to all the things that come and go across the great Midwestern plains of a person�s life. Accidentally, these things occur to me and I am lost within them. I am a salvage yard for yearnings.

It is easy sometimes to think of you in transparent ways, as if you are without body or mind, you are just a floating thing of great beauty without the need to cause or end actions. Indeed, beyond them. When this happens I hear, in the floating behind me the things curtis and I have talked about, the things I know to be true. I am like a murderer who knows the immorality of a thing and decides that it doesn�t matter. I am not distracted by prisons or punishments. I have outgrown fear and paralysis.

So, just now I am walking down the block to the little coffee place I sometimes go to to clear my head and read the morning paper (thought it is afternoon by now) and I am trying to unlock the secret code of my need for you, my desire to be next to you, spend time with you.

In so many ways I am tired of thinking about you. I have been thinking about you in circles for so long now. You have been on my mind in driveways and parking lots, in bookstores and record stores, in swimming pools and beneath my night sheets. It would be easier to have, once again, control of my own mind, control of my own thoughts. And I do. It�s just that my enjoyment of thinking about you knows no end. I never tire of remembering a thing you said or pondering a walk we took.

I am trying to get at a thing that cannot be gotten at. I am working to understand, to ascertain the specifics of you physical composition. Maybe, if I can carefully look at you, long and perfectly, I will be able to memorize every feature of you face and body, every curve and fold of skin, every fluid and gesture in your catalogue, and then, a subtle peace will wash over me and my love for you can settle into the shade of your stares.



2004-04-22 | 1:17 p.m.
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