Wednesday, August 29, 2012

the green

Our interchange has stayed with me the week. It as if her emerald eyes bore into me and left impression, deeper even than her words, deeper than her expression. And maybe it is as simple as she threw a green cloak over me and just lately I sort from underneath. I untangle. I uncover a detail unnoticed earlier: the moisture from her hands, the roundness of her O's, the shock of her blonde hair. And so it is as if my memory blows kisses from behind me and I am besieged with little whispers, knowing glances, continuous drops of attention.

And it is likely she would be surprised with what I say here. Might deny it, think me building castles of air. Not fully grasping my currency: the aftershock, the resonance, the trailing (yes, Breathe into Now, but do not forget to gather all that remains, for later, when it can be shaped and polished and shown).

I could feel her eyes lowering when I told her of the naming of the pirate ship. Lowering still further when she said, "I wouldn't have gotten that," and shame on me for not correcting immediately, for not saying it is blessing, it is testament, that you do not get such things. Only the afflicted and the irreparable travel to find pirate ships, to call this adventure. To believe so strongly it makes shambles of all else.

And again, I wonder: did I put my hand on your heart to feel your rhythm? did I leave you something to take on your upcoming travels, perhaps a word or two worth repeating like a silly song? did you see even a hint of your green reflected back (it is how you measure, I am certain), or did I fail the test? Will the words spill like seed next time or will you again have to cajole?

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