Some dates stay with you. They creep up on you when you do not expect them, they lure nearby for days ahead, attach themselves to the season, the mood, the memory. And in that uncertain moment between winter and spring, when the sun is warm but the winds freeze you right to the bone, that's when it arrives. In the back of your spine, you know. Another year has passed, and it's March 31 all over again.
I only remember how sunny it was, how lovely. How spring was just around the corner, we could taste it on our tongues and for the first time in a long while, I sensed a grain of hope in the weary useless days that had gathered around me. How at least there was that to hold on to, to smile about. A day later, in that classroom, with your picture, with that silence, how different the world looked then. I could have never imagined. I could have never guessed.
It's a long time ago now, memories fade and get washed away in the white noise that is our lives, it's not unusual. Too much you did not see that we did, that we added to our hearts, our minds our synapses. But not a day goes by when I think of you and do not stop, if but for a second, in my cerebral tracks. Remember your blond hair, your infectious smile, remember the darkness in your eyes that day when you walked out alone and how could we have known. Mostly I remember what you left when you went away. Life is finite, you have but this one. Your family has but this one, your friends. You do what you will with it, of course. But it seems wisest just to live it, after all.
There may come a day, when you won't regret it, and that day is worth all the wait.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Purged
If I can only make it through this next week, it will all be okay, I had heard a voice say, as though it weren't my own. So few moments of stillness, of solitude, and only fewer on the horizon as plans and promises amassed. This was not the time to be incapacitated.
All this I contemplated, as I lay in the dark night, yet again purging whatever evils had nestled their way into my belly. As though the fates conspired with my body and gave me the break I needed but for which there was no time. Shame called work, cancelled evening plans, apologized for deadlines missed, and promptly collapsed in a heap until night became day became night again.
When I finally come to, in the late afternoon, snow flakes trickle carelessly outside the window, the apartment is a mess, the to-do list endless. Regrets of meetings missed float through me, stab me in the gut at regular intervals, I cannot bear to think of them. There is only looking ahead, now. In me grows a restless energy, sprouts a tiny seed of madness, as though whatever sickness came and went took winter's dreary tiredness with it, cleaned house, opened the door for a new start, another spring. Unsteady legs make their way out of the stale refuge. New Year, New You. We can only hope.
All this I contemplated, as I lay in the dark night, yet again purging whatever evils had nestled their way into my belly. As though the fates conspired with my body and gave me the break I needed but for which there was no time. Shame called work, cancelled evening plans, apologized for deadlines missed, and promptly collapsed in a heap until night became day became night again.
When I finally come to, in the late afternoon, snow flakes trickle carelessly outside the window, the apartment is a mess, the to-do list endless. Regrets of meetings missed float through me, stab me in the gut at regular intervals, I cannot bear to think of them. There is only looking ahead, now. In me grows a restless energy, sprouts a tiny seed of madness, as though whatever sickness came and went took winter's dreary tiredness with it, cleaned house, opened the door for a new start, another spring. Unsteady legs make their way out of the stale refuge. New Year, New You. We can only hope.
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Nevermind
Suburban mall, rainy day, nothing out of the ordinary, the subway runs on rush hour schedules, it's seamless. And at the end of the row of clothing chains, on a couch, such a bright collection of shining faces, such a strange scene, New York arrives to the old motherland, and it feels as not a day passed since I saw you last.
Dinner continues, conversation drifts from updates to adoring jabs to dreams of a future together again. For a second at a time, I allow myself to remember feelings long suppressed; they lunge at my core and stab my senses, I tremble at the edge of the wooden table, cannot look at your face. This will all end in tears, you said, I never forgot that, and you had no idea how right you'd be. Nor did I.
Only moments ago, we sat in that whitewashed factory in Brooklyn, then too as though not a day had passed, the JMZ rocked comfortably across the Williamsburg Bridge and carried me home, always home, always reliable, steady, that city does not disappoint in steadfastness, and there we built our dreams. I assembled my bricks, my mortar, with you in it, with brownstone and cab yellow streaks, with ruthless winter winds and glittering forty-second street lights. Around this wooden dinner table I lose my breath, I forget the motions, my lungs pierced by desire long denied, but so barely forgotten, I stumble.
Who would have known
how bittersweet this would taste.
I swallow it whole. Should I ever forget, the way my eyes giggle, my stomach turns, thinking of you, there'll be nothing left of me, at all.
Dinner continues, conversation drifts from updates to adoring jabs to dreams of a future together again. For a second at a time, I allow myself to remember feelings long suppressed; they lunge at my core and stab my senses, I tremble at the edge of the wooden table, cannot look at your face. This will all end in tears, you said, I never forgot that, and you had no idea how right you'd be. Nor did I.
Only moments ago, we sat in that whitewashed factory in Brooklyn, then too as though not a day had passed, the JMZ rocked comfortably across the Williamsburg Bridge and carried me home, always home, always reliable, steady, that city does not disappoint in steadfastness, and there we built our dreams. I assembled my bricks, my mortar, with you in it, with brownstone and cab yellow streaks, with ruthless winter winds and glittering forty-second street lights. Around this wooden dinner table I lose my breath, I forget the motions, my lungs pierced by desire long denied, but so barely forgotten, I stumble.
Who would have known
how bittersweet this would taste.
I swallow it whole. Should I ever forget, the way my eyes giggle, my stomach turns, thinking of you, there'll be nothing left of me, at all.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
His First Time Around
Sunlight returns, life, people long hibernated in hiding emerge from their dark depths and stare blinking into the sunlight, congregate in open areas, mill about, unsure where to turn but smiling, all smiling, all amazed at the awesomeness of nature and spring. Same procedure as last year, same procedure as every year, but we never tire, we never learn, and it is beautiful.
I wake early, these days, I cannot get myself to pull the blinds at night and the sun rises so early now, but it is too sweet, like being woken by a gentle man impatient for you to open your eyes and you cannot be angry at him for that, can you? My blood bubbles, brain waves long frozen begin to thaw, begin to remember where they are and what they thought they were doing there. My empty pocket book gapes at me vacantly, I feast on cabbage at 7 cents a pound and contemplate apartments far beyond my budget. It's all a big joke. This is the season when you can live under a bridge, you'll be fine.
This is the season when you realize it's ridiculous to worry; it's only life, it's only your life, keep your head above and you're doing it right. My muscles begin to itch, roads stretch to the horizon in every direction, the sun sets late. Now is the time to do it right.
I wake early, these days, I cannot get myself to pull the blinds at night and the sun rises so early now, but it is too sweet, like being woken by a gentle man impatient for you to open your eyes and you cannot be angry at him for that, can you? My blood bubbles, brain waves long frozen begin to thaw, begin to remember where they are and what they thought they were doing there. My empty pocket book gapes at me vacantly, I feast on cabbage at 7 cents a pound and contemplate apartments far beyond my budget. It's all a big joke. This is the season when you can live under a bridge, you'll be fine.
This is the season when you realize it's ridiculous to worry; it's only life, it's only your life, keep your head above and you're doing it right. My muscles begin to itch, roads stretch to the horizon in every direction, the sun sets late. Now is the time to do it right.
Re:mind
“...because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”
Thursday, March 22, 2012
as You Knew It Would
The hangover crept slowly through my system in the early morning commute, like sludge through the tunnels of the city's underground, how pale the weary travelers, how long the day ahead.
But eight hours later, stepping out of the office into mild air and fiery sunlight on basking brick walls, how defenseless I was against the magic of spring. It creeps into every corner, the scent of cigarette smoke and earth, the delicious feeling of a squint, the sea gull screech you had forgotten to miss.
The crowds thronged onto pedestrian streets, swelled over crosswalks and meandered through impromtu outdoor cafés and bars. The sleeping city wakes, murmurs, begins to shake the heavy weight of winter off its shoulders. In an instant, forgiving citizens agree to forget there was ever such a dark season, remove thick winter coats, peel off thick winter layers surrounding shivering hearts.
Spring. It's Spring.
And for a short, sweet moment,
we are invincible.
But eight hours later, stepping out of the office into mild air and fiery sunlight on basking brick walls, how defenseless I was against the magic of spring. It creeps into every corner, the scent of cigarette smoke and earth, the delicious feeling of a squint, the sea gull screech you had forgotten to miss.
The crowds thronged onto pedestrian streets, swelled over crosswalks and meandered through impromtu outdoor cafés and bars. The sleeping city wakes, murmurs, begins to shake the heavy weight of winter off its shoulders. In an instant, forgiving citizens agree to forget there was ever such a dark season, remove thick winter coats, peel off thick winter layers surrounding shivering hearts.
Spring. It's Spring.
And for a short, sweet moment,
we are invincible.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
March 31
(and it's that time of year again
the birds, how sweetly they sing,
the sun,
how brightly it shines,
the world,
how immense it lies
at your feet and all is well.
I think of you
all the time.
See your face
under trains
under buildings
under headlines.
No good comes
of a life ended early.
The lesson learned.
You are still gone.)
the birds, how sweetly they sing,
the sun,
how brightly it shines,
the world,
how immense it lies
at your feet and all is well.
I think of you
all the time.
See your face
under trains
under buildings
under headlines.
No good comes
of a life ended early.
The lesson learned.
You are still gone.)
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