loss and liability
matter? what systems we arrange for intimacy, small
disclosures like miniature bridges, your mouth. not
what I’d anticipated. softer. to begin with,
I should tell the truth more. I could miss you,
and that’s a liability.
- Marty McConnell, Miniature Bridges, Your Mouth
***
i am thankful for the gift of hours and the memory that springs from such random acts of mercy. now in empty moments, alone and friendless in a strange room of white sheets, white walls, i can hold this gift up to white light, turn it in different ways and still be dazzled by its ever-changing colors.
even though i know i would always find myself back here in this place where everyone leaves from, says good-bye and turns away, the joy of shared mornings (and rare evernings) was a temptation i have unrepentantly fallen into. happy hour? anytime between seven until ten. it was a shared experience of milkshakes and ice cream, tea and poetry, theater tickets and lengthy text messages.
and always, always, animated conversations. always about those who matter most to you. always about that which is closest to your heart. i am never part of it, yet always taking part in it. i am the outsider looking in, my pockets heavy with privileged inside information. it could make me wealthy one day, if the currency would allow for an equitable exchange with your heart - that thing you keep away from me so cleverly, always just beyond my reach.
maybe i'm just dreaming. maybe i'm just an old hick reliving my glory days, when i believed i could put out with minimal effort for maximum effect.
those days are lost to me now.
already you are pulling away, slipping beyond my grasp. soon, i will have lost you to the waves of determination i have encouraged you to ride. soon, i will diminish from your sight, become a speck in the horizon, until i am no more part of anything.
***
I could miss you,
and that’s a liability.
