Listen Here, Internet Girl

Month: December, 2012

“marked by enthusiastic or impatient desire or interest”

You are so eager to love me in the evening and too eager to leave me in the morning.

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head above water

“I cannot do this hard-knock life alone. You are all the softness a rock dreams of being
. The mistakes the rain makes at picnics
 when Mother Nature bears witness in much better places.

So yes
, I will gladly take on your ocean
 just to swim beneath you
 so I can kiss the bends of your knees
, in appreciation for the work they do
keeping your head above water


.”

-Mike McGee

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a familiar dance

“Remember that time I told you I don’t get depressed?” I poured myself more coffee and looked around the room.
The Christmas tree in one corner, a man in the other.

“Yeah,” he said looking up at me.

“That was a lie. I’m a writer. Of course we get depressed.” He flicked his cigarette ashes into my “Keep Santa Cruz Weird” ash tray. He chuckled.

“You wear your moods on your sleeve.”

“And?”

“And I already knew that about you. You aren’t a hard person to read.” I felt my face get hot. “You look like you wanna punch me.”

“I do.”

He chuckled, again, then stood up. His cigarette was still lit. The Christmas tree, which we purchase at Duane Reade on 145th St, then lugged home six blocks, stood tall and proud. A symbol of the second chance we had granted ourselves.

He walked over to me and tucked my hair behind my ear. By this point “I love you” had become common place. As casual as “I’ll do the dishes tonight.” As natural as brushing your teeth. Tonight, when he told me he loved me, it illuminated the room. I feared what that meant, if anything and I cussed myself out in my mind for trying to analyze when he was trying, with every breath in him, to help me remember.

He wrapped his arms around me. The record we’d been playing finished, now I could only hear breathing. Once he said to me “You deserve to be worshipped. Like Cleopatra”, and I rolled my eyes and laughed out loud. There is a dance I do when I fall in love. Two steps forward, ninety steps back. I stumble, unsure and wobbly on legs that have forgotten.
I wanted him and I was afraid to. I annoyed myself with my love for him, and he was all I wanted in that moment and one thousand others.

A ghost is not recommended

I had been running and avoiding
in order to avoid running into myself.
I should have just stayed. I should have just stayed near to where I was instead of bumping into my shadow that lingered all around my life like cigar smoke. I never could have escaped me.
Silly 20something. Now you know why love must be all tricks and no magic. Our shadows danced, but I stayed still until it was time to go to the next place I wouldn’t have to face what had become of me because of you.

A mirror shattered into countless pieces all around us. We saw our shadows as a reflection of what could have been.
You were gone, gone, gone and I was here, finally still. I did not cut myself as I put us back together. And I meant to tell you before we parted on 42nd St last December that I was wrong. That people who love one another leave ghosts out in the snow. And magic shines as proof from their houses. Even, and maybe especially, us.

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Oops

Is it TMI to talk about the fact that I orgasmed and then immediately after walked into my kitchen and ate a slice of cold pizza while watching the D train roll by my apartment? If so, oops.