goodbye, july.
2005-08-02 8:46 a.m.
i fall asleep cuddling to the mattress, a long night after a month of infatuation, the end comes easy to mehe calls around twelve thirty in the morning, and i've got the door open, i'm ready if you're willing it to happen.
fall asleep
wake up telling him (we've been having a fragmented conversation about it for weeks) about the last moments, how honor steps aside to admit more ferocious natures, how in death, we may well lose that last speck of pride that kept us human
(as if there were some difference).
this is finality, the answer to the ending, the give away production that will haunt us before it happens, and we celebrate our love with early morning natures, our quarrelsome tongues arranged, his bitten
mine sharp, and unprovoked into becoming relentless.
here, this is childhood, all of the young resentments that grew up in our bones, that solidified our natures into some form of order, so that we could trace ancestors in our sordid features, an obsession with the key hole, a compulsion with the lock, a ceremony we've conducted
with our mothers and our fathers, a touch behind the ear for good luck, a wink for merriment, the way we
count
our steps
the way we make our movements.
the way that we forgive ourselves, blaming our inheritence.
the way that we expect that same sort of forgiveness.
august comes unexpected, and august always means business, means changes of addresses, means acceptance of decisions, and this is my first year of freedom, moved three times between different houses
(am i making the choices i would make if i felt that there were no repurcussions?)
(there's no answer on the other end.)
(this line is dead, filling itself up with nervous clicks.)
(tap. tap.)
we make plans for the next five years, a slow step toward reunion, and i am backed into the ocean, a stich in time reconstruction, to beg your recollection of me from fact to fiction
and i was the spider, you were the hapless consort of a trainwreck born ready, and waiting just to occur.