Thursday, May 21, 2020

All you wanna' do


Fuck. I have become a working man. It seems that it is all that I do. With very little sleep last night, I still worked all day today. It was a strain and I did so with a persistent headache. Tonight, I have ingested the elixirs. I must write quickly before their grip drags me south to the underworld. There can be no fooling around tonight - sleep is a sine qua non. I must go into the weekend rested, if I ever hope to steal from it what is intended.

The picture above was taken when I was with another woman. A girl, really. She was somewhere between those two ways of being, perhaps. Camille - she played a big role in my life and then disappeared. Towards the end of our relationship her sex life became more active than mine. We're friends now, but that friendship did not appear easy at first. She had broken me. Broken me in the way that other women may wish to reserve for themselves. Broken me in such a way that Rachel would never forgive or acknowledge. 

The three important romances in my life - Honey, Camille, and Rachel. In that order, with generous overlapping in the friendships and some commingling of the romances. Camille occupied two years in the beginning of what might have been mine and Rachel's time, otherwise. Though Camille and I had started two years before Honey finally wanted no more of me. Not sex with Camille, but something worse: intimacy, fond and deep friendship. It caused Honey to marry a golfer.

Somehow Amy, my first wife, has drifted into the aether. Though I still love her and think of her fondly. She and I used to laugh often. Though the same could be said about Camille and I, and Rachel and I. Honey was very sweet to me, and tolerant. I remember putting my head in her lap and feeling something I had never felt before, something warm and affectionate and true. I miss her and think of her fondly as well. Of course: Rachel. You do not give a woman a child, intentionally, that you do not believe that you will love forever. Or, the version of forever that yet remains. 

My male friends have wondered, and some have asked, how I am able to lure such beautiful women into my life. It is the laughter. What is CS's saying, women find you funny until they don't. That is consistent with my experience. I have been lucky at making the women in my life laugh anew. It's not always perfect, but it is often unexpected. The best of things often is. 

I may wake tomorrow and think of yet another love I have had and enjoyed. The memory of laughter arrives on the waves of sleep like the whisper of a favorite and familiar song. 

That thunder in your heart
At night when you're kneeling in the dark 
that says you're never gonna' leave her

But there's this angel in her eyes
that tells such desperate lies
and all you wanna' do is believe her


1 comment:

  1. Cute Pic. :).

    I typed and typed. But decided it was not my place. To say such things. Not bad things. Just noticed things. Words and all.

    So instead I'll just leave a couple of Lisa Poems. I like to see them - they make me cry but I like to see them none-the-less.

    22 things to do today

    In the mornings
    I play in the garden.
    Lisa says
    I may startle butterflies
    but must not be content,

    and often I must rub the cancers from my eyes
    the glit shongs and blitterbigs
    that have festered on the edges
    of a dark song
    rye conklings where the Monarchs sit
    before I have a chance to put my shoes

    Lisa says
    I should count each one
    tomorrow they may be gone

    that quiet panting that they do with
    swallowed up by hummingbirds
    that steal the flowers
    they like to sit upon.

    perhaps I am in the way
    my words seem very loud.

    when Lisa wipes my mouth
    with her sleeve,
    and brushes the hair from my eyes
    everything quiets down
    and the flowers weave.

    Lisa in Cinema Veritas

    You must fall before you come to the ledge
    then you may pretend to fly,

    just as she does what she wishes
    like kisses which fall as they may

    towards unexpected places

    “that was the same as candy!”
    Lisa said searching through the blankets
    for an earring. “Flying?” I asked

    distracted by her ass.
    The panties hang over the bed like a question mark.

    “No,” she said, “it was like red when it changes.”

    Odd that when I get up to put the cats out
    it is she who purrs
    even though it is I, who is licked by a stiff breeze.

    Thomas Brady