I miss the careless sleep of childhood
arms flung across the softest sheets ever to touch dusky skin
cheeks flushed with violent health
guiltless, guileless
timeless dreams of gazelles leaping across an endless tundra
and pink panda pets who live under magic sofas
"I'm not sleepy, mommy!" I exclaimed with all of my tiny might just before collapsing, boneless, against her fragrant shoulder
I don't remember being borne aloft up the stairs
placed gentle in a soft sheet sandwich
soothed
smoothed
cooed
slumber.
Stuff--what?
Friday, May 30, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
passed
I saw you again on the bus today. I sat right behind you. I've seen you three times in as many months, now. I suspect you live in the same town. You're going gray and you have a cough. I heard from someone we once knew that you are still at the university. I saw you about a year ago playing your instrument at a street fair. Today I walked behind you into the train station but got tangled up in my earphone leads and lost sight of you.
It was 13 years ago that we were in a wedding together, plump girls stuffed into yards of green velvet and long satin gloves that were so tight at the top that our upper arm flesh bulged over like muffin tops. The Bridezilla wanted each of us to dye our hair, but we put up a collective front and were victoriously graying even then. You, an avowed atheist, were slightly afraid you would be struck by lightening at the altar and I was afraid my rheumy knees wouldn't allow me to rise from the kneeler--we trembled like leaves as the half-familiar Anglican phrases floated over us. We were later chased by the geese that lived in the lake outside of the reception hall and snuck out to MacDonalds when all the food ran out. That night I discovered that my new pajamas were too small and your snoring sounding like geese mating. Ahhhh, good times.
And then I got sick. I don't remember if that's what drove us apart or if it was like the casual drifting so many of the people I knew back then and I did as my life began to radically change. A few harsh remarks, and it was done. Poof. No returned calls, mutual friends calmly notified that we shouldn't be invited to the same outings. Maybe I needed too much, or maybe you were too scared of what I became. It ceased to matter long ago and I examined the back of your head this morning with just a fleeting sadness.
Should I have patted your shoulder, said hello, inquired, in the brief time it took to get to the train station, about the intervening years? No. Why? I couldn't dreg up the interest, frankly, and that's the saddest thing.
It was 13 years ago that we were in a wedding together, plump girls stuffed into yards of green velvet and long satin gloves that were so tight at the top that our upper arm flesh bulged over like muffin tops. The Bridezilla wanted each of us to dye our hair, but we put up a collective front and were victoriously graying even then. You, an avowed atheist, were slightly afraid you would be struck by lightening at the altar and I was afraid my rheumy knees wouldn't allow me to rise from the kneeler--we trembled like leaves as the half-familiar Anglican phrases floated over us. We were later chased by the geese that lived in the lake outside of the reception hall and snuck out to MacDonalds when all the food ran out. That night I discovered that my new pajamas were too small and your snoring sounding like geese mating. Ahhhh, good times.
And then I got sick. I don't remember if that's what drove us apart or if it was like the casual drifting so many of the people I knew back then and I did as my life began to radically change. A few harsh remarks, and it was done. Poof. No returned calls, mutual friends calmly notified that we shouldn't be invited to the same outings. Maybe I needed too much, or maybe you were too scared of what I became. It ceased to matter long ago and I examined the back of your head this morning with just a fleeting sadness.
Should I have patted your shoulder, said hello, inquired, in the brief time it took to get to the train station, about the intervening years? No. Why? I couldn't dreg up the interest, frankly, and that's the saddest thing.
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