Wednesday, April 8, 2009
I stood out in the snow for an hour looking at the moon. The clouds were flying faster than my eyes desired to follow. A lesser light to rule the night; and ruling it was. It dominated the air space and demanded my attention; the same way she did. I breathed in through my very American nose. The air filled my lungs like hot chocolate fills your bones. It whispered in my ears but I couldn’t make out what it thought. Tolkien could have perceived the tongue, the cause of my quagmire.
I now know how tiring it is to argue with people when there is no point to what they are arguing. It feels good to get older.
She’s pretty great. I can’t say that for a lot of people. Change is apparent already. Nostalgia happened in my presence. It was negative nostalgia I think. A weird feeling I could do nothing but stare and try to understand how she was keeping from crying. I almost cried. Going to Africa makes you cry…a lot.
I’m the wife of Lot. She looked back and turned into a pillar of salt. You know when you’re running from a city that God is destroying with fire and brimstone and he tells you to not look back but you look back. I’m looking back. I’m the wife of Lot.
I want a wife that I can lie with and think; listening to music just thinking and loving each other. Our skin touching in unabashed warmth. I put her hair behind her ears and take in the perfume. It reminds me of all the girls I’ve lied with in the past. None compare to this girl, who understands me more than my relations with every other human.
I stood out in the snow for an hour looking at the moon. The lesser light to rule the night. I am freezing cold and looking into the window of a warm house with a king size bed bidding me to come sleep. Occupied by two one time in its young life, the left side will be yet cold again tonight. It’s sad getting older.