Into the Fluid

I thrashed in the contradiction they told me was life then layed back into the mystic; the cold hard face of the afternoon. It was all feeling and without strange supplications that never entered thoughts but poured out anyway and over the hills far away I sit there thinking.

You asked me if I thought it possible to fall in love with someone you’d never met. And I did that thing you hate, answering a question with a question, when in reply I asked if it's possible to fall in love at all. But, really, what I meant was if one can happen why couldn’t the other?

I don't know the half told part of what you think is in my heart. But on a five dollar bet you place your lot in with all those thoughts and raise it a dollop with a cherry on top. And I'll tell you what, take it or not, I'll see the dare full forced, red hot, and take you on for it all&#151 each bit that I've got.

You need a light to fire the otherwise twisted and not so ground upon truth. Take a spoon, its gentle curves, the contortions of your face as they look upon you, take it in your hand, and when the light goes out, when the night falls and you watch only the mirror of what in your mind was before, then with it dig, dig, dig your way home through the shards of what you one time wanted.

Their shadows, they cover and surround in some tone I don't understand. Let’s call it blue while warmth; it wraps and holds me. The memories of was, I will leave them, their tightness like a pothole behind. I throw the days rain from my coat and watch the drops through a gauntlet fall down.

What power is this held over the female heart by a blossom fair?

For just one day and underneath the somewhat cool autum breeze and kneeling in the leaves I offered you the world&#151 only forged in love alone and forgotten by everyone else.

The faces of people I've left behind surround me, at times when I feel most low. The memories, of good times and bad, swirl about me and taunt me with echoes of laughter and tears. Sometimes I pull their shadows around me like a sepia-toned shroud and let them hold me, trapped in time. Other times I can cast them off and shake loose of the grip they have on my past.

And elswhere sinking on a pine needles soft breath, the whisper of her...

Strands of copper fire wind a path through swaths of green, aspen amid pine.