..see everett..

I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS FUSED IN THIS AIR IN FRONT OF US; WHAT MOLECULES HANG BETWEEN OUR LIPS. IT FILLS MY LUNGS AND DRIVES MY HEART TO THE BEAT OF A HUMMINGBIRD. SHE DODGES YOUR EYES AND TRIES TO HIDE THE EMOTION ACCOMPANYING THE NERVOUS LAUGHTER. THE CLOCK TICKS OFF ANOTHER MINUTE PASSED. SHE HOLDS HER OWN HAND AFRAID OF WHAT HER TREMBLING MAY TELL. THE STREET LIGHT IS REFLECTED IN THE WATERY GLOSS OVER HER EYE. WHEN SHE LIFTS HER HEAD SHE SEES YOU; SHE SEES IN YOU, AROUND YOU AND THROUGH YOU. SHE READS TRUTH LIKE FIVE LETTERS TATTOOED ON YOUR BROW. HER HAND ADJUSTS THE VOLUME DOWN AND THE HEAT UP BEFORE MAKING ITS WAY TO YOURS. PERHAPS THE VENTS ARE EMITTING WHATEVER TURNED THE AIR NERVOUS, YOU THINK. ONE THOUSAND CONVERSATIONS FLOAT BETWEEN YOUR EARS, ALL OF WHICH BEGIN WITH A QUESTION. YOU STRUGGLE TO WADE THROUGH WHICH ARE APPROPRIATE AND WHAT LOGICALLY COMES NEXT, BUT AS YOU SEARCH WHERE TO START SHE BREAKS THE SILENCE. IMPULSE. ONE WORD. SEVEN LETTERS. FIGURES. DIVINE PERFECTION. THAT’S WHERE YOUR MIND GOES FIRST. FITTING GIVEN THE SITUATION. IMPULSE; A DRIVE, A FLIGHT, A KISS. THAT ESCALATED QUICKLY. THEN IT HAPPENED. YOU TRIED TO OVER THINK IT BUT YOU STOPPED. YOU LEAN IN, BRUSH YOUR HAND AGAINST HER CHEEK AND HOPE FOR THE BEST. THE CAR, THE CLOCK, THE VENTS ALL VANISH. THE HEAT REMAINS. WHAT MOLECULES HANGING BETWEEN OUR LIPS? DANCING LIKE A DANDELION. 

THERE IS A TRIP WORDS TAKE STARTING FAR UP NORTH AND VENTURING THROUGH A CORTEX AND ON TO RELAPSES IN SYNAPSES. EVERY WORD, NOT JUST THE SMART ONES. IT JOURNEYS SOUTH TO THE BELLY AND UP THROUGH THE LUNGS, SQUEEZES PAST THE CORDS AND TIPS OVER THE TONGUE. EVERY UTTERANCE. OUR LIPS GUARD CAUTIOUS EXPRESSIONS FROM COMING OUT TOO QUICKLY. THEY FORM OUR ‘ITS’ AND ‘WHENS’ AS WELL AS THE ‘ORS’ AND ‘BUTS.’ WITH BOLDNESS, OUR TEETH ALLOW LONGER STRINGS OF LETTERS TO POUR OUT UNINHIBITED. ‘WHEREVER.’ ‘WHENEVER.’ ‘FOREVER.’ NOT A SINGLE OF THE WORLD’S FORCES CAN SPEED OUR SPEECH OR IMPEDE WHAT WE IMPART. YET HERE I SIT. SURROUNDED BY DARKNESS. CURIOUS AS TO HOW ON A LONG JOURNEY SUCH FOOL CAN BE ACTED. AN INSOUCIANT REGARD FOR ACTION OR REACTION. A BLUNDER BY A BLITHE SPIRIT. FROM INFANCY WE’RE TRAINED IN THE VIRTUE OF PATIENCE AND THE POLITENESS OF PLEASE. THE PERFECTLY PLANNED THOUGHTFUL THANK-YOU PAIRED ALONG WITH THE QUAINT QUIETNESS OF SPEAKING IN TURN. LIKE THE LESSONS LEARNED WERE LEFT BURIED IN THE PACK I ABANDONED WHEN I SAW SCHOOL END. SO LONG WISDOM AND FORESIGHT, CAUTION AND CONTAINMENT. INSTEAD I WELCOME THIS. FUCK. THINK BEFORE YOU SPEAK. SHIELD UP.

GIVE ME A CANDLE AND A PEN. PAPER AND A CIGARETTE. ALLOW ME HOURS TO SCRIPT HOW YOUR ACTIONS HOLD THE HEART’S HAND, TIGHTEN WITH AFFECTION, AND LEAD DOWN THE PATH. I WILL SPEAK OF THE STONES UNDER OUR FEET AND THE SONGS OF THE SWALLOWS. THE PILLOW OF GRASS UNDER OUR HEAD AND THE BLANKET OF SUN ON OUR FACE. I CAN TELL THE TALE OF THE AFTERNOON STRETCHING ON FOR DAYS WHEN COMPANY KEPT WAS ONLY US TWO, ME AND YOU, AS WE LEFT OUR SECRETS TO THE WIND. PERMIT ME TO INDULGE MYSELF IN THE RYTHEM YOU CREATE. THE LIGHT IN YOUR EYES AS THEY TAKE NOTE OF A SPARK IN MY SOUL. THE LAUGH ESCAPING YOUR LIPS AS HONESTY TURNS TO HUMILITY AND BARES TRUTHS SO REAL ONE WOULD NEVER DREAM OF HEARING THEM FROM ANOTHER’S MOUTH. LEND ME ONE MORE PIECE OF YOU. ONE FINAL WORD. GRANT ME THESE MOMENTS, THIS REFLECTION, THIS MEMORY. FOR WINTER IS COMING AND SOON YOU WILL GO. AND UPON MY TABLE, UNDER THE LIGHT OF A CANDLE AND THE GLOW OF THE CIGARETTE, I WILL REMEMBER WHAT YOU LEFT. FOR ALTHOUGH YOU NO LONGER HOLD MY HEART NOR JOIN ME ON THE PATH, YOU WILL HAVE LEFT ME YOUR SUN. AND MY NOTES, MY SCRIBBLES, MY WORDS WILL HAVE DOCUMENTED MY CHANGE. IT WILL BE OUR CHAPTER. AND I WILL THANK YOU. WHEREVER YOU ARE.

IT’S THE TRANSFORMATION OCCURRING I CANNOT EXPLAIN. THAT WHICH TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE LATE NIGHT AND EARLY MORNING. CHECKED THE CUFF, STRAIGHTENED THE PLEAT AND ADJUSTED THE COLLAR. CONSULTED THE MIRROR A DOZEN TIMES BEFORE LEAVING. SO HOW IS IT THE COMBINATION OF CLOTHS AND PATTERNS SELECTED, SO PERFECT ONLY HOURS AGO, ARE IN THE WAKING HOURS SO SAD? EACH WRINKLE HOLDING A TALE; A WITNESS TO DECISIONS MADE AND A TESTAMENT TO WHY YOU WALK OUT A DOOR THAT ISN’T YOURS. IF ONLY YOU COULD BUTTON THE MOUTH OF THIS SHIRT, WEARING YOU AS IT BARES THE TRUTHS OF WHERE IT AWOKE. THE COAT OFFERS ITS OWN BRAND OF PUNISHMENT; HAVING BEEN SO COMFORTING, IT NOW SITS COLDLY AGAINST THE NECK GIVING WAY TO THE WIND. YOU KICK THE CURB, LOSE STRIDE AND NOTICE THE SALT STAIN SPOILING THE UPTURNED RIM OF THE PANT LEG. YOU BRUSH AT IT TWICE BEFORE REALIZING IT’S CHOOSING TO STAY. FITTING. FUMBLING WITH THE LIGHTER YOU FINALLY IGNITE THE CIGARETTE, BREATH DEEPLY AND HOPE YOU’RE ADDING TO ONE LESS LATE NIGHT. ONE LESS WRINKLED SHIRT AND COLD COAT. IT’S NOT HOW YOU IMAGINED YOUR LATE TWENTIES. NO. NOT HERE, NOT ME, NOT LIKE THIS. IDENTIFIABLE YET INEXPLICABLE IS THE CHANGE FROM WHEN THE CLOCK STRUCK FOUR AND LATER PASSED EIGHT. YOU HAD KNOWN EXACTLY WHERE YOU WERE HEADED, BUT NOW YOU WAVE FOR A CAB AND WRESTLE THE CRY TO SIMPLY STATE “AWAY” WHEN ASKED THE DESTINATION. YOU FEEL ALONE ON THE EMPTY STREETS OF THE BIG CITY. AS IF THE LIFE OF THE WORLD WERE SOMEWHERE ELSE, SMILING AND BUSY. HEAD DOWN YOU NOTICE THE PANT CUFF ONCE MORE AND FEAR NOTHING WILL REMOVE THIS STAIN.

I EXHALE, TIMED PERFECTLY TO THE BEAT. AS IF MY LUNGS SOMEHOW DRIVE THAT WHICH FLOODS MY EARS. EYES TO MY FEET, FIGHTING OFF WHICH FILLS MY MIND. IS THIS WHAT IT TAKES TO COME ALIVE? I FOUND IT AND HAVE TO LET IT GO. I LIFT MY HEAD, LOOK UP AT MY REFLECTION ANGRY AT EACH DROP THAT MAKES ITS WAY TO MY CHIN. I PUSH HARDER, FRUSTRATED BY THE LATE NIGHTS;  ANY TRUTH TOLD AND EVERY SECRET KEPT. I RECOGNIZE IT’S MY LIFE. IT’S MY PAIN AND MY STRUGGLE. YET THERE SHE SITS WITH ME. COILED AROUND EACH FINGER IS SOUL’S STRING. THOUGHTS RESTING IN THE PALM AND FEELINGS UPON THE WRIST. I QUICKEN THE PACE. A SILENT PRAYER FOR ONE PAIN TO LESSEN ANOTHER’S ANGUISH. A BRIGHT FIRE AND A FAMILIAR BURN. MY MOMENT OF CLARITY. MY GIFT AND MY CURSE. I CAN FEEL THE BEAT IN MY THROAT AS THE MINUTES WIND DOWN. MY EXHAUSTION BATTLES THOUGHT. THIS IS WHY I DO IT. NO, NOT TO IMPROVE. TO BREAK DOWN. TO ERODE HOPE UNTIL REALITY REMAINS. THIS IS NOT A MOVIE, IT’S A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT. A WARNING. AN EXPLANATION. A DIAGNOSIS OF WHICH HAS SHUTTERED MY SOUL AND SUNK IN MY STOMACH… OR PERHAPS THAT IS SIMPLY THE WAFFLES FROM DINNER.