Friday, August 10, 2012

Their Goddess, My Goddess, and the Lover (of books)

I dislike it, intensely, when she mentions others. The before other and the after other and the significant other: they are the borders that compress and thrust against the walls of our encounter, our shared time, and must I have them as intruders, must they be allowed to extend their limbs through the door, rake their knuckles against the walls, leer through the windows? And then, She: breathe into Yes! (unsaid/assumed: breathe into Now! get present  get here  get right only here  nowhere but here here  now)

I brought her a book from off of the prized shelf (yes, the great S). And if she likes it I will admire her more? I told her do not worry, just give it back if you do not like and please please think absolutely nothing about it. I just thought you might like to try something different and have I mentioned how attractive it is that you read so much and I will keep it to myself that your breasts seem to have escaped their cover today (planned escape? coincidence?) and yes my they do look lovelier than expected and sure I might write a sonnet to them someday (but first we must get better acquainted) and yes of course here is my telephone number for you to enter into your iPad should you need to contact me about that work matter and is it possible you are as uncomfortable as I or is that smile just acknowledgement that I am no match for your wisdom and instincts, your wiles and guiles? (and what if she dislikes the book? we will see how well she lies or how strong her portents)

Hahhh! Breathe Gather Raise then Hahhh! Again Again Again! And so the lesson that before I could not remember, not even the colors, has taken small root. I will not be giving class any time soon (well, there is that singular exception planned) but I can recall the edict and gladly I will call this progress. And when I received your energy from the left and returned it through the right and later you asked for me to report and I did not report what I just now glean: you sharpen me, make me as instrument to soon enough do my own pruning, cutting away what is choking and unnecessary. And I believe I sharpen you also. More than you expected?

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