“It’s returning to the stranger of your previous self passing you by on roller skates.”
“Everyone commits unconscious fraud, but crimes against your own humanity remain largely unenforceable.”
“Don’t be silly, I just wanted to hear you say you think I’m pretty.”
“You walk with the confidence of a much taller woman.”
Because she hadn’t had a moment to breathe. No bit of space to call her own, even if she did have the back of a Camel pack, a portal of the porthole in the plaster, and sometimes a view.
Sometimes a forest, sometimes a cave; sometimes a sound.
A fault line. A tyranny of averages.
And, what I thought was an ever accumulating posse of ghosts was just me coming to notice them. For, they had been there the whole time. Like when I came to understand when someone begins a sentence with “I hate to mention it”, most of the time, they mean to say “I love having a chance to bring this up.”
When I do come back it will surely be as a book, or a bit of English in a pool game, or the illegible scrawlings penned by someone in ecstasy. And, I know God and I are playing in this moment.
“I shudder everytime I hear the record’s scratch.”
“I like it.”
“It sounds like breaking. Rumination.”
“Sounds like creation.”
“Oh, shut up, Shiva. Shakti the eff up.”
Falling into a swoon of kisses before saying “Dummy,” and slapping him from his reverie.