Monday, August 07, 2006

It was nighttime on a bed on a beach. I swear I saw the surf creeping closer but I couldn't hear a thing other than her breath, in and out, perfectly in time with my own.

"Some moments are..." she said, without losing the rhythm. I smiled. Not because I agreed. But because I understood the appeal of a moment like that lived only because of other things.

People will tag you, I thought. They want to pin you up on a wall under "funny" or "sad" or "boring" before you make it to sentence number two. But those beautiful moments are the ones that in that space of absurd and funny an amazing and passionate and unforgettable. All side by side, just barely touching.

Maybe it's because what we think are real emotions are right there on the border of belief anyhow. When you're trying so hard to escape the real feeling is when you fall in head first.

across the beach I heard a cell phone ring through the clatter of a party.

Louder and louder.

She felt my forehead.

My eyelids opened.

The pictures all stared down at me.

Perfectly spaced.

None touching the other.

Wait, did I forget the funny part?


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Any luck with the new crew?

You deserve more readers/comments.


9:46 AM  

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