This one is about you
Wrote this to "Mad Rush" by Phillip Glass. Might be nice to read to the music too.
Walk with me.
I see a part of you in everything. And that man that walks towards me, swearing profanities, swearing lives, swearing Gods, he walks towards me. He walks crookedly. He walks. He’s crooked. And he eyes me. And I walk straight. Walk straight, I breathe. This is your line. Walk straight. And he walks towards me, and I fear for more than my life. I fear for more than a collision. I fear for my submission. I fear that I will bend my line. That I will walk crooked to get past him. I fear that I will be crooked.
But straight I walk. And straight I will continue. And won’t you walk next to me? And we will walk straight through the crooked men?
I said out loud, “I did not run long today.”
You asked, “Why?”
I said, “Because the blisters on my feet hurt.”
And you said, “Oh to have feeling in my feet.”
“It’s not pleasant,” I said.
And you walked me home, and I quietly noted how much I liked your hair when it stood up the way it did.
Sit with me.
Talk to me about love. Talk to me about the past. Talk to me about the ghost of love. You breathed in from that small paper tube. You breathed out smoke like a dying dragon—a great and magical creature that people feared and admired. I told you about when I was with him. I told you about the time when I asked myself, “Shouldn’t this be enough?” You smiled. You said, “I think if you have to ask yourself, ‘Is this enough?’ then it isn’t.” And your eyes sparkled. And my stomach jumped. And I smiled. And then I coughed. The smoke was thick. I don’t like smoke, but I liked the way you listened. And I liked the way you talked.
And when I hugged you goodnight, you felt like a scarecrow. I felt like a lion. And before I had spoken with you, I had felt like empty tin. You felt warm.
Remember with me.
I had forgotten, but you remembered. And you wrote it down. “Remember that time,” you said, “That you left me? A week. You decided you had other responsibilities to honor. No, not responsibilities. You had requirements to fulfill. And you left me. And I was sad. But do you remember what happened afterwards? You came back a week later. You came back and said, ‘I left because that’s what the paper required. I came back because this is what I require.’” And you reminded me that I am the girl who follows her heart, that I believe in something more than check marks on paper. And I cried alone in a coffee shop reading your reminder. I cried because I had almost forgotten.
Ask me questions.
Ask me where I’m going. Hold me a minute longer. You wear a uniform. More importantly you wear a smile. And when you wear that hat, I wear an apron. I take away their food. You take away their car. I wonder if they slip you dollar bills like they do me. A man placed a five in my hand the other day, “Because you’re so cute!” he said. And again he said, “You really are!” Do the women say that to you? Do you know that I know you have blue eyes? Do you know that I wonder what you do at night? Do you know that I wondered if you saw me cry that day I came home early from work?
I saw you in a statue. You were with one of your wives. I wondered with a sickening smile why the other wives hadn't been made into statues either. I wondered how your religion could say I could not sleep with the man I loved, but said that you could sleep with a fourteen year old girl and many others when it suited you. With all due respect, I think you're disgusting.
I stood out on the fields of the capitol. I like the older looking buildings and houses. They make me feel like I’m in a fairy tale. You past by with your dog. Your hair was curly, and so was your dog’s. It made me smile. You smiled. I hope I made you smile. Once you said, “Be the princess. Find the prince. Find a knight. Fight a dragon. Live in a castle. Why not? You deserve a fairytale! What would life be without the magic?”
And then I remember the nights that you whispered, “Life isn’t a fairytale, Jade. You want something I can’t give you.” And when I asked you if you loved me and you didn’t answer… Why didn’t I leave?
And when you said I’ll never make you cry, I only wish that you were blessed with the ability to see me curled up in a ball on the floor in New York at two in the morning in a 4 degree winter. I wished that you could see your lies then.
Now, I only wish that I could have seen your lies then.
But now I see them. And now I know. And that’s good enough, isn’t it?
In the night, I felt your fingers. They started at the bone of my hip and traced the lines of my body. It tickled, I tried not to move, but my back arched and curled with delight. I could hear your breath as you felt my breasts. I closed your mouth with mine, but it was bedtime. So we stopped.
And then you reached into your pocket in the light of day. We stood on the sidewalk. You pulled out three stones. You gave me the one with magic and kissed me on both of my cheeks. You gave me personal success. A bright future. And a strange belief in a rock that I told myself I didn’t believe in. I wore it on my chest with courage the next day.
Then you stood in front of me. You asked me why you were doing my job for me. You were an absolute asshole. I said it was the stress of moving to a new city so people wouldn’t know it was you, but it was you that made me cry. If you yell again, I won’t cry this time. This time, I will tell you to stop, that you can't talk to me like that. I’m waiting. It’s only a matter of time. I can’t wait to see your face.
When I continued to cry on the steps. You gave me two cookies. You put your hands on my head. You patted me softly. You hadn't known me for more than an hour, but you made me happier. You said “Shhh. Eat this.” And I said nothing, but I took one of the cookies. And you left me alone.
And when I made it to my apartment, I fell to my knees. I dragged blankets over my head, making a nest in an empty room.
Tomorrow, I said, Tomorrow, I will write about all of you. And then Night took me, and laid with me, and left without a word the moment the sun began its way up into the sky.