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02-23-2011 01:52 AM |
streetcorner bequest
Later, I would remember this place as I would your breath on the back of my neck. We always got a long so well, perhaps it was our collective predisposition to being unhappy, perhaps it was because all we had ever known was nurtured by vice and daring, therefore wilted gratification. But we were still young then, at the height of our youth, before cancer, before collapse. The orange glow of the street lights buzzed behind us, illuminating our halos. White noise spilled over the viaduct, and we basked in its waves of calm. ¬¬¬¬¬¬¬ And now, years later, I cannot recall exactly as it was, simply serene beyond anyone, who upon trying to recreate these moments of industrial tranquility, could begin to conceive. I held my breath and looked to the sky, feeling her next to me, providing salvation like evening prayers. Exhale, and again. I gratified my ego there amongst the docks, amongst the sea gulls, the drunks. The child within me giggled with delight as my grimy surroundings transformed into a sparkley playground of fleeting bliss. We sat there, motionless, allowing ourselves to be rocked into periodic sleep by our only constant friend, Seattle city streets, desolate on a Monday night past midnight, smoking cigarettes. She turned to me, skin flushed with rosey artificial light, said “Load me one” smoke rising from her fingernails, and looked away. As an after thought, adding “No, load me a double.” I laughed, sincerely stating, “I was going to anyways” And so I did, and she did as I had done, both of us hopelessly lost in the oceans of our heads. We were beautiful, we were the essence of 21st century youth; doomed and elegantly degenerating, lowering ourselves into our graves dug by hypnotic media, manic pre apocalyptic supermodels starving for culture, substance. Passion. We wore it in our hair and stitched it into our clothing. And our guises of combat boots and fairy wings surely deterred the drunks and tweakers, who moved amongst the shadows. Everywhere we went, heads turned and eyes followed our flowing skirts around corners, up escalators. We flowed through crowded rooms of rambunctious sanctity as little wisps of seemingly innocent bliss. Often stirring sophomoric woes of those who failed to see the divinity within us. Her and I, sitting on the old park bench, overlooking concrete and childhood, waving good bye with each empty cartridge we emptied into our souls. Forever, goodbye. And so we sat together, alone, and asked ourselves questions, questions of life and love, where we were going and where we were from. We never did find any answers, just options. And so we sat, and welcomed each artificial breath as we would a second chance at ignorance. Graciously, she rocked herself, steadily to the beat of some internal struggle. We laughed, we talked, we loved, we were all each other had, really. Save some external vice factory, shoving fulfillment down our throats, always there, always right behind us, beckoning us for one more. Eternally dead, forgot to be born, beautifully imperfect, disastrously miraculous. Searching for validation amongst the stars, what very few I could see, I exhaled and gratified my ego there amongst the docks, the drunks, the gulls.
---------- Post added at 05:50 PM ---------- Previous post was at 04:59 PM ----------
hola! i am looking for feedback and constructive criticism on some of my stuff... this is a work in progress and will be a part of a larger compilation of short stories. lmk whatcha think!
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