I learned to listen to myself, completely

August 10, 2009


Stumbling with thug-like movement, we threaded through the decaying house of propriety. The dust was permanently settling.

The attitudes of the observers were passive.

A passive annoyance.

A slight passive worry.

It was a packed sitting room, benign emotion moving like waves through the earth. The acoustics were astounding.

I picked up the tail end of our saboteur family dutifully.


“The rest have made it, now we must rush down the spiral,”

I said to you.

The staircase was slick black stone and over-sized. It had its own room. I couldn’t tell you the color of its walls; it was a room we never really spent time in. The platforms seemed to tilt from the speed of our descent. Seeing is believing. Near the end there was a piece missing, I jumped. The fall would have been deadly from that height. You stopped youself with impossible suddenness and I could see the veil of fifteen years of ho-hum pretensions drop, your face muscles taught, waiting to scream. I swear I saw the spectre you’ve been claiming as your own fall into the small hole and, suddenly blessed with a matter of its own, shatter into infinite amber bits. It could not stop with the same immediacy. Your eyes met mine and said everything. For a long moment nothing moved and nothing changed.





Each following breath filled my lungs completely. The sound of your voice was bare and smooth.

It does not matter what you said.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: