Monday, November 3, 2008

Question v. Answer (Listening to: Third Planet, Modest Mouse)

We’re so very grounded on this cold Alaskan night. Above us, your sky spins a savory silk for the treetops. We look at the ground and at each other. Our bare limbs are so earthly, so low. My few words tilt softly from behind my lips. The pavement is cracked with weeds. Our feet have led us to the courtyard, the place you say you first kissed me. Maybe I’ve lost track. It would surprise me. You hold me in your arms and I bury myself in you. We both know such Saturdays breed Sunday mornings of goodbye. You nuzzle my head and kiss my lips softly. I pull the strings; I am the puppeteer. I kiss you back. Full, round, dripping fruit. I don’t mind that your hands wander. Your fingers tracing me are compliments and they are comforting. We take a walk at your suggestion (you want more), and amble down the concrete. We sit on the stoop of a dark whitewashed house. You cradle my head as you lay me down to the sidewalk. Your fingertips flow from beneath my left breast to my opposite hip. Your lips pulse at mine. Beyond your head, the frozen starlight blooms. Your warmth is pressing me, enveloping me, sweeping up and down my legs in waves of shivers. I sit up on my elbows. My naked shoulders are pale moonlit horses.

They said I love you.

I know.

He doesn’t love her, does he?

No.

She doesn’t love him either.

Good.

It’s too soon.

Way too soon.

I lay my tousled head on your shoulder. The harbor glimmers slowly. A tangled thicket of masts guards the shore. Neither of us needs to say I don’t love you.


When I first wrote about that night, I wrote about that one amazing kiss in the courtyard. Last night I realized I'd overlooked the important part.


In other news, I told my old best friend (I'm still close with her, but I think "best friend" is too black and white for us) about what happened to me on my birthday. See: Locking the Doors Isn't Enough (August 23rd, 2008) Anyways, I cried for twenty blocks or so, the most violently I have since Alaska when my parents went insane. Today was an awful day, which is what got me started. The aforementioned incident just sort of spilled out.


I had burst into tears in the middle of the restaurant, so I left my family and started walking home. My dad made me come back, because he said it wasn't safe. Funny how when you need your parents to care and notice, they don't, but when you want to be alone they care enough to ruin it. Maybe I'll write something real about this later in the week.

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