Friday, January 21, 2011

cab ride

I don't want to scare anyone and tell them how I really feel
That's what I'm thinking right now
The cab driver with skin the same color as the leather seat I sit on
Speaks French that doesn't sound like French
I only know it is because I picked up on a phrase
Comment s'apelle he says, and I interrupt his conversation to ask if he just said what's your name
No, he says with a smile
And tells me he said what you doing, neglecting the are
For some reason, I can't give up on the idea that I'm right and he's wrong

I feel the smoothness of my leather jacket and the softness of my scarf
I wonder if my hair looks alright
Then remember that glimpse of beauty I saw
When I looked in the mirror in the hall next to the elevator
I remember that beauty and try to hold on to it

When I arrive, I feel my tongue stiffen
Words I want to say are difficult to pronounce
The band is playing so loud and I have to stand so close to my friends when I speak
I hate this because it is uncomfortable
Even though I brushed my teeth thoroughly before I left my apartment
I worry that my mouth smells of cavities and wish for a piece of gum
I only worry about this when I'm in situations like these
Close talking situations where the music is so loud
Loud and not even good
I don't think the singer has any presence
I am attracted to passion and he has little

More things happen after we leave the club
My friend and I decide on pizza
They serve us chunky, fat slices with grease so thick it drips
I am happier here
There is more space
The walls are made of mirrors and everyone looks at themselves while they speak and eat

On the cab ride home there is not much to report
The driver is nice enough to drop me at my car so that I can get a blanket to sleep under when I get inside
I had left it in my car because I brought it to my lover's house
My lover that uses sheets as blankets even in the bitter months

The feelings return
With the sound of my keys unlocking the door home
The ones I'm scared to tell
The ones that ask why I'm here
Is it normal to wonder?
I still compare my inner workings to those I deem as normal
Even though I don't know what normal is
None of us do
It is stupid to even use that word in that context

What's the point?

Broken everything everywhere
Broken people
All over the world
I feel that it's a sick place and it hurts

The other night when the feelings first began
It was before bed
I was listening to my lover breathe the sounds of sleep
And I, awake, began to think
It made me nervous to feel the weight of such questions

That's where the feelings ended
They stopped when confronted with that word
Almost immediately

And so I will repeat it again
Thinking of the warmth that love creates
How it puts what's broken back together again
I, now free, begin to sleep

1 comment:

  1. I really like this posting. Beautiful - like you.