sorry it took me a while lovers, it's been a day or two of coolin' down, that's all.
coolin down from what? well, everything. including fireflies and wayward hedgehogs but more so from the last remaining bits of the wasteland that allowed me to grow into a much saddened yet wiser butterfly (or perhaps something else, butterflies are not very metaphoric after all. yes i put the period after a long sentence (but you know me and my sentences they always continue--even when they end).
it was a wonderful night when we all laughed out loud with silent recognition of the coming danger of growing up (you'd think by time of college you'd already have done so but me? no. never). i drank lotsa wine cracked up jokes and tagged along to made up last minute speeches. popped up champagne twice- firstly with those who i've set out to walk this path with and than with those that i learnt to walk this path with--both of which mean the world to me-- and noticed that one thing a man can't do with grace is pop the champagne (no joking i mean it). they all cramp and try and sweetly laugh but boy it takes time.
seen fireflies for the first time in my life. they look like these long lost pieces of silver spirits flashing up as shooting stars in the darkness and even more sweetly they follow a path (well they are bugs after all and have to fly from one spot to the other) so you watch them spark (but in a silvery sharp way) all the way down slowly but constantly. and boy they are beautiful. i could have perhaps trailed them all night if i was left to do so but i had other stuff to chase: goodbyes, mostly.
i ended up (as always) not where i thought i'd end up. my dear friend who always helps me to not feel dangerously homeless opened his home to me and even prepared a wonderful breakfast the next morning. made me realize two things: firstly i am an incompetent child in the kitchen. i think it's because my mom always made everything so amazingly tasty and quick that i grew to learn my place. second i think my favorite meal of the day (not very poetically or very much in a rock'n roll manner) is breakfast--if you have a smiling face or two by your side. i think i love it so much because it means you're starting your day together-- which has a very sincere beauty involved in it. it's not meeting up or running into one another--it's this human emotion of sharing the start of a day which resounds of will and warmth. so yes at the age 21 i notice i like the morning hours and breakfast chats. especially to clean up the table and move on to drinking your coffee or tea or whatever it is.
what am i feeling? who knows. been drinking coffee and reading books all morning outside at the balcony with the fresh vase full of flowers i bought the other day for mama and the tea she made and the crow babies running around shrieking all the way till you see the redness of the insides of their beaks. and as if it could have been any better it's been raining all day and mama and i just sat there on the balcony with the roof protecting us from the wetness but not from the lovely dripping sound. she was doing her crosswords puzzle. i was sketching out my pound route for london next week. and the rain oh the rain.
how come i get to feel this safe now when everyone's crumbling down is beyond me but i think knowing ultimately what you have to do to survive helps. you just have to find a way to make that fit into the real world. so i guess i look out for a tool, not a purpose: hence my ultimately peaceful ways.
it's gonna be a crazy week from now on lotsa arrangements have to be made and shopping and figuring stuff out with my lovely london companions. app. i'll be staying somewhere within a stretch of a walking distance from ezra's whereabouts. so we may run into each other after all in a dreamland where i can then perhaps shape by where he's been and where i'll be.
i should make an ending now. and not just to this post, i take it. don't let it be known but i am sad. i have the blues in the root of my heart. if it was up to me i would have stayed. yes not in a way that i'm afraid of life and all but life was in there for me: always there within those high stone robert frost walls within the shades of the trees and the heart shaped leaves beneath which i let out my morning sigh within the shelves and shelves of books where i ran to to feel safe and to fall in love with poets proud and praised and within hallways and high ceilings and pathways that made me feel always in charge always in control and always in life. there in that patch of ground i never buried anything but i busted them out--every bit of feeling of love and lonesomeness and joy i hashed up and jumped around and beat the crap out of to have'm all stand high above the ground--i knew where i was and it was mine--and the green and the blue and the dustworn sunrises and the blinking stars of the pitch black--and all the colors of the time of my life when i knew who i was and who i was to be--and hanging up the lock now i know i am never to feel that safe again or that in possession--but i also know that if i ever get to tell my story to a handful of drifting souls in some pastel colored cafe over bitter and black coffee while the sun goes up beneath some hills there is where i will say it all started. and i being me will laugh a loud laugh and wave a hand aimlessly knowing that in a world where rootlessness always make the best poems i am cursed with knowing where i began.
and i began there.
No comments:
Post a Comment