Let’s lie down on the wet grass on an autumn morning with my sweatshirt stuffed against my back, allowing damp greenery to ache my stomach strip. Don’t lie on your back, but rather on your side, allow me to be in your sight. Balance your head on one hand and hold the e. e. cummings poetry book with another. Read a poem for me out slowly, as I puff my smoke at God. Give me the book. I shall read one too. By-passers will not grasp my attention and will not interrupt the flow of words out of my lips… nor the smoke.
Allow us to go shop for groceries and buy chocolate bars and coffee jars. On our way home and as you drive, I will remove the branding tickets off of everything we shopped for – for we promised to keep our kitchen brand-free. I shall not litter any street with those removed tickets – let it be ugly or beautiful. I’d keep them in a plastic bag and get rid of them in the trash can on the sidewalk on the right of our house’s door.
Shower. I won’t. I’ll leave the coffee jars in the bag, grab two chocolate bars, and throw them on the table by the sofa. I’ll put on some music and intentionally list two or three tracks to play before “Private Investigations”. I’ll lie again on the sofa with my damp sweatshirt stamped against my back allowing the warmth of home to soothe my stomach strip. By the time you are next to me, it will be one track away from Dire Straits’. By the time we are half way through the chocolate bar, it plays. Lips.
Let’s make babies so that on the days you choose to ignore me, I’ll drive across town to get them to spend time with Omar. He will teach them what they cannot be taught in schools and what they can’t learn from you or me. There is no need to bring up Omar when one of them is always putting ear-speakers and so-not-depressingly feeding on Salinger. They got that from me.
I’ll drive back across town and shop for wine bottles that I shall let the baby in the backseat remove the branding ticket for. I’ll secretly get some bourbon too. But before I throw anything in a trash can, and before I throw any chocolate bars on the table and definitely before I prepare any playlists, I need you to know… My hands are scarred from touching all the wrong people.
2 comments:
I think it would be better if you shopped for wine bottles before crossing town, and it would be nice if you called Omar and asked if he needed anything that you can get.
Stay focused, you are driving, i told you we're removing ticket-branding as good as we can but not as good as you do it.
Before you are headed for bourbon you should know you'll never be able to make it a secret.
Bourbon will lead us into lots of arguments that might last for long.
I'll always prefer the 75cl Jim Beam and you'll always be wanting the 100.
I'd tell you that 100cl is too much, Omar is not taking care of them for the next weekend.
Looking at the less-than-half empty 100cl Jim Beam standing on the grass i wine about how the 75cl would've been just enough.Passers by still does'nt grasp my attention nor interrupt the flow of words out of your lips.
As the bottle gets emptier, as the sofa gets warmer, as music shuffles whatever may it shuffle, I will be trying to tell for the millionth time the story of how i came to life when your hands touched mine.
That's why giving my life for healing any of your scars is something so small..something anyone would do to his raison d'etre.
I wish life would be that enjoyable, that simple, even for a little while. Human emotions are a mystery to me. Living together with a loved one is my personal heaven. If you do have it, then I envy you. I envy all of those who have it, and they're surprisingly very little.
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