sometimes in the summer we'd sleep under layers of those heavy sheets that reminded me of november and of home.
of slow, hopeful days -- my own bed and a moment's escape from a frigid loneliness that made my thumbs numb and reduced feeling from
something that existed at hair's tip
to just the most vital and centermost threshold of my body
on warmer days we'd create distance and try to find room to breathe,
to let the breeze pass over
the both of us
we'd try to keep the cool air in
and i didn't have ac
at twenty-two, i couldn't eat an ac
i didn't know how to keep cool air in, how to control that which ebbed and flowed from near and far through cracks and crevices
and even thick brick walls -- that from which there was no escape like time, like language, like style
and our cooking would make the whole place hot, the shitty fan i had stolen after meeting you wasn't enough for that
after long days of the sun's light shimmering along the cracks and splinters of my room's shattered glass
it'd be unbearably hot --
i assume it was
i had grow use to nights where i'd sweat profusely and dream vividly of being carried off in currents and I'd dream of sex and violence
when i awoke, my sweat, like piss, nicotine spit, or big bullet-sized raindrops --
a purification
tomorrow, it'd be 67° and i hoped thunderstorms would bring us closer
the room would be cool, the fan at its very best. it'd be crisp like fall, leaves falling on cobblestone, fire crackling, bells ringing, books shutting
and that reminded me, soon we wouldn't have to worry about heat. there'd be an immeasurable distance between us and we wouldn't have to worry about things being too hot.
and briefly, what we'd grown use to fearing would be gone and all would be well but only briefly. soon we'd be cold, a frigid loneliness eating away at nerve endings and we'd wish it were warm
and we'd wish we could sweat in the same way and just sweat it all out. but maybe you'd go somewhere warm where thick blankets were of no use and maybe you'd figure it all out and things would be
okay. pure.
We spent a few days in the rain dancing. Dreamt of green hills growing out from ground which was cold and hard at the moment.
A few nights drinking, warm embraces. A sweet, smoke smell coming in breaths, sighs, laughs, when you spoke. Something familiar, settled, soothing.
I fear that we’d not be able to speak to each other sober. I fear that if we did the death would come by a thousand questions. That you could not know me. You did not know me. Inevitable, the destruction, even if you did.
You asked a few questions. They never got to the heart of anything. Who were you supposed to be? Who was I?
You definitely weren’t anything like me. And this place, these people, they were not my own. Not for me.
I wanted to say to you; Imagine a barren place, a tundra’s tanned earth, snow falling slowly from grey skies. Mountains in the distance. Cold air passes over your ears and meets your face in infinity. In that moment, alone with your eyes closed, looking through it all, who are you? What do you think you look like? With no direction and nothing human, no warmth, in sight: Where is home? What is hope? What is home? Where to start?
Could home be a ray of light venturing through the mundane, touching your face, saying hello for the first time? Sun slipping through curtains and closed doors to warmly embrace us right where we stand? Where to start?
If you were a window, where would you be? ___________
At what latitude would you like your sun to rise? ___________
Would you like to be crystal clear or smudged, pressed against, drawn on? ___________
Would you stay in one place or move? ___________
And move quickly? Yes/No
If you were a window, would you like to be surrounded by stone, wood, metal, vines, and/or air? ___________
If you were a window to the world, would you be square or round? ___________
What type of windows would surround you? ___________
How many? ___________
Could the people on the street see through to the inside? ___________
Would you be high and out of reach, outer space, or down to earth, close to home? ___________
Could you be climbed through? ___________
Are you underground? ___________
Can I see you? ___________
How reflective are you?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
And how are you dealing with your many panes? ___________
If the boys played baseball in the park nearby would you feel safe? ___________
Could you break? ___________
And if broken would you be able to be find your pieces and put them back together? Yes/No/Maybe
If there was suffering outside could you open up? ___________
And if you opened would it be to invite us over or would shouts be sent out? ___________
If the cathedral burned would you let us out? ___________
And if the people on the inside fought, would you let light in? ___________
And why have we let Tik Tok run our social lives? 3 AM on a December night is a terrible time leave. And you have no windows in your place anyways so why care what they think? Why do we torture each other? Why do we do this to ourselves? Where to start?
Am I old fashioned? Am I over thinking all of this? Could it be simple? Are you just a window who'd like to be railed?
A few nights drinking, in a strange land. A bed of hands, of breaths, of drinks.
Les cheveux roses que j'arracherai de ma barbe. It confuses me. A warm embrace. An escape from a cold place which maybe I should be confronting, driving face first into.
You? You make me afraid. You disappoint me. I can’t help you, I try but I can barely help myself. And I’m afraid I’d lose the both of us in keeping up with you. In trying to be better than I’m supposed to.
And what if some how I kept up and then you were gone by spring?
Then, once again, I’d spend a few days in the rain dancing. I’d have dreams of green hills growing out from ground which was cold and hard at the moment. Could it ever thaw? My nights would be slow, quiet. And maybe hope could be birthed by a thousand questions. One day, change could bring a warm embrace.
And I’d walk, I’ll walk — alone in the cold with my thoughts knowing things could change. And soon the french boys will play soccer, the boys in the park nearby, baseball.