A Love Song of Sorts

For my chatty counterpart:

Happy Halloween

I've been listening to Feist's Metals obsessively for the past month. Yes, it did come out last year, but somehow I missed the boat on that one. Here's one of my favorites. Seemed appropriate for the holiday.

Defining Moments

I read The Lover's Dictionary over a year ago. I finished it in one day, but I still think about different blips every now and again. I found so much to relate to in that short little book. I laughed, I cried (I think), I nodded. I nodded a lot. Anyway, these are two entries that come to mind pretty often these days.

akin, adj.

"...In the long view, did it matter that we shared this? Did it matter that we both drank coffee at night and both happened to go to Barcelona the summer after our senior year? In the long view, was it such a revelation that we were both ticklish and that we both liked dogs more than cats? Really, weren't these facts just placeholders until the long view could truly assert itself?

We were painting by numbers, starting with the greens. Because that happened to be our favorite color. And this, we figured, had to mean something."

scapegoat, n.

"I think our top two are:                                                                                             

          1. Not enough coffee.

          2. Too much coffee."

Stargazing

We sat still and spoke low while the sun turned over the day to the stars.

Owl eyes were watching, but there was nothing much to see, just a wall being built between two halves of a whole.

My light was too dark for you to see by, so you took out your pipe and scented the breeze.

In your old tyme pose you reminded me of a blurry photo of Whitman writing poems under a clear blue Montana sky.

I started dreaming of mountains and poets in trees, smoking pipes and eating chocolate cake.

From our seat at the top of the hill we took snapshots on our eyelids of deer fleeing the scene and distant cars driving by.

We wondered where they could all be rushing to and did they even notice the full moon?

From my side of the wall I whispered, "They want your soul for keeps," and you shrugged and said, "Then all of life is out-running those creeps."

I smiled and side-long glanced at your crinkly eyes in profile, hoping it wouldn't be for the last time.

But when you told me you loved the ocean and feared the mountains in their brooding darkness, I knew you weren't the mountain man of my dreams.

Then I lay the last brick myself and laid down on my side, blinking at the owls and the tall weeds.

I reminded myself that the tide will come in and the tide will go out, and the moon will continue to keep the nights bright whether you're here or not.

So what if sometimes I forget to breathe and that's how I know I've fallen asleep?

The Sound of Saving

Back door, north shore, 

spring and summer whore 

there on the floor of St. Peter's, 

where the ebb and flow of evildoers 

forsakes the angelic beggars in the gutter, 

and the sound of saving drowns out 

the whispers of tranquility, of harmony 

and who can say for certain who we'll meet

at the first light of dawn but maybe

last night's regret?

Epilogue

Your eyes reminded me of toasted hazelnuts, and when we kissed I would keep mine open just a little longer than you. I didn't want to miss seeing them so close to my own, melting like chocolate in my pocket as your lids began to close.

I forgot to tell you that we'd stopped speaking, so you just went on talking, questioning. Asking, "what do you think of me, really?" Really? Truly? I'm still trying to figure you out. But if you have to ask I can guess that you're unsure yourself, a little lost but not completely gone yet.

You showed up in my dreams to drive me to nowhere. You quizzed me on my knowledge of art museums, scoffing with pretension when I'd never heard of your made up museums. Then you turned to me with a sheepish grin, the one you saved for one-upping me at Did-You-Know? and said, "We were never in love, you know." And like I always did, I shrugged it off, pretended to be offended that you felt the need to remind me. At the end of your drive we found my kitchen, and you took a nap on the floor while I watched the neighbor boy bike through my backyard.

Hazelnuts for eyes aside, I think I regretted most that we were never going to climb the tobacco tree on the street between our houses. That we weren't, that I wouldn't; because who wants to sit in a tree alone, knowing something's missing?

Hello?

Is this thing on?