Monthly Archive for February, 2003

i wonder sometimes if you ever think about it. if you remember it like i do. we were children then when i came home to visit. i was 21 and you, only a little older. but it was still the same second grade crush. we were children at heart. sitting down by our old elementary school at night. bodies draped between railings as we sat and talked. legs wrapped together to keep us from falling. i can’t remember how your face looked that night. just that you were with me. dream. we made our own constellation. as it turns out, someone already thought of that. it was the Pleides. we stood in each others arms for a while. your head resting against my chest. you took me to where they were building the new school. we were followed by a policeman. we explained to him that i hadn’t been home in years. he left us alone.

i took you downtown. i had never been downtown with you before. we were too young to drive. we were children. we sat out behind a cafe. a cafe that wouldn’t last there long. it was an all-nighter. it was empty that night. a large UFO hanging from the celing in the front. a strange green neon glow cast over the tables and chairs. they had salad. we just wanted coffee. we sat out back in the brick lined patio. on the edge of a fountain. just you. and me. and the stars. we were facing each other. your legs were crossed. one of my legs on the edge of the fountain. my knee touching yours. the other leg draped over the side. i remember your face now. like an angel. halo’d by the constellations. your cheeks flush. your hair falling in your face as your head dipped forward. i listened to the water falling in the fountain. the water spoke with my heart.

“OH! why do you weep? such a beautiful night. yet tears fall from your eyes like i fall from this fountain. oh, why do you weep?”

my heart replied, “i have been given a second chance at life. yet i forsake it. i find myself open once again like the petals of a morning flower. yet i fear it. i weep like the flower weeps as the morning mist paints its moistened blanket across the field. i weep like the river weeps on its way to the sea. like the flower, today is a new day and i have opened in wait for the sun. like the river, twisting and turning on its way to the sea, i have found my path. yet i weep. for like the flower, the farmers will come and pluck it from the earth. for like the river, it will only reach the sea as but a trickle for there is a dam. this is why i weep.”

the water thought for a moment then replied, “i have been here for what seems like ages, passing over this very spot day after day. i have conversed with the hearts of those, young and old, that chose to stop and talk awhile. i know all there is to know. i have nurtured and bathed every wish there is to wish. i now desire to see the world. to experience that for which you weep. every minute of every day, i pound upon my prison walls. and every day, i feel them weaken. the day will come eventually when i will be free and find passage through the cracks so i may return to the earth where i belong. i am like the river held by the dam, for it too will eventually break free of its concrete prison and surge forth till it meets the sea. and think not that the flower merely be plucked from the earth. for the farmers wife, it will be joined in a splendid boquet and bear fruit in the memory of those that held witness. i have said all i can think to say. shed no more tears this night for there is another like you which needs comforting and speaks to me in kind.”

i was lost. breathing was hard. the night was getting cool. your face was like a flower, glowing in the moonlight. i was pulled in. my hand running along the gentle slope of your jaw. gently lifting your eyes to mine. and when they met, our hearts began to spin, like the dance of the whirling dervish. and i ran my fingers along your face. tracing every curve, every line with my mind. hoping that if need be, i could redraw you like you were then. sitting there in front of me. you closed your eyes and spoke to me. “i usually hate people touching my face… but with you… it’s wonderful.” my heart exploded.

we went back to your house. we sat on the cool, hardwood floor. some music was playing from your little black stereo that sat up on the top of your bookshelf. Morphine. how fitting. you said you liked it. the lyrics. from under your bed (the very same bed that i had sat next to on the very same floor almost ten years prior when i came back from England in fifth grade and surprised you) you pulled a box. i was in that box. every doodle i had given you. every poem and letter that i had written. my heart stopped then. ’so you do remember’ i thought. so you do. i went through it like a homocide detective. how fitting lifting each piece of paper from the box with care not to leave fingerprints. like an archeologist. each page seemed 1,000 years old. felt like cotton. to turn to dust between my fingers. we laughed together as i read out loud some of it. i remembered certain lines. certain images came to mind. but i couldn’t remember the feeling. it was as if i were reading someone elses history. someone elses life. someone elses love. it had been too long. i had gone too long loving you with nothing in return. you wanted to be friends. since second grade. and we were.

i spent the night. in your parents house. in your house. the same house that i remember from when we were kids. we were the best of friends. i had only been to your house one other time in my life. we slept in your bed. our bodies warm. naked. i traced your body in the dark with my hands. i thought i was dreaming. we kissed a lot that night. lost in a sea of liquid love.

i always wonder if you remember it like i do. i wonder if your heart spoke with the fountain. what did it say? it’s been years since last i saw you. things have changed. but maybe i’ll see you again sometime. maybe i’ll see you again. i look for you at night, when i can see the stars. head back, staring up at the sky. i’ve said hello to the Pleides more than once. haven’t heard anything back. but i feel my heart open like the flower… for just a moment.