Harry,
Hello
Howdy
Hi
How do you do?
To remember
Memory, holding water in my hands
But this time, I swear
Not a single drop has fallen through the cracks
I have an emerald green eye
Welling up with emerald green tears
There isn't an emerald green sky
above me
It is actually so ordinary
Must I chase your shadow's shadow day and night?
Simplicity.
Her form
Her gaze
Are all unattainable to me, to me, to me.
Ms. Geisel
How they shiver in the cold as they approach you
The rain lays a burden upon their shoulders
But your warm welcome touch
The rush of air as the slidey doors part
Read
Write
Think
Dream.
...
...
I am home.
You sigh in contentment as you devour these souls
From sunrise to sunset they remain
Never are you hungry
Your arms stretch from East to West
From 1st to 8th (minus 3rd)
Ms. Geisel,
How I yearn for your soothing voice
You gently whisper...
...
...
"The library will close in 30 minutes."
"Goodnight, my daughter
Sweet dreams, young prince"
Khosla may have chained me
But it is you who holds the reigns
Not A Person
She sits beside me in the passenger seat. My hands loosely grip the steering wheel as I drive downtown to the market. The air, though chilled with winter’s end and spring’s beginning, is thick with silence. It is her. It is always her.
As is tradition, I speak first.
How about Thai for dinner? We still have the pasta leftovers from yesterday but we can eat that tomorrow.
“Okay.”
—————————————————
It always ended with okay. Okay. Okay.
Was it okay? Were we okay? Why was she always okay? Could she not be okay for once?
I loved her the moment I laid my eyes on her. Outwardly fragile, she had the eyes of a hawk and the heart of a lion. But she never once spoke about those things. She kept the facade of weakness and of tranquility, as if to hold back a wave of pain that had not yet washed over me. But I didn’t know. I still don’t know.
She never told, so I never asked.
For two years, we kept the balancing act. I was on the ropes, while she was swinging by her feet. Neither of us was happy, neither of us was sad. Early into the second year, I had lost my job, and we moved to a smaller apartment with thin walls and even thinner conversation. I couldn’t talk to her because, well, I wanted to respect her space. By God, if she could just see what I was going through. If only she could speak to me. I loved her. I hoped she knew that. No, she has to know that. —————————————————
Wednesday, 7:46pm. A return to the supermarket. We enter and go our separate ways: I shop for the toiletries while she grabs the produce.
7:58pm. Where is she? I never finish before her. I walk to the produce section. No sign of her or her basket. Then I hear whimpering. It’s her. Crying on the floor. Next to the pears.
I drop everything and run to her, kneeling next to her shoulder. She’s holding a magazine; a baby smiles on the cover. Her hands are shaking. Is she okay? What’s wrong?
“Everything. Everything.”
Why? What do you mean by everything?
“Us. Everything. I feel like I’m trapped in a box with no light. Nothing.”
What’s going on? Please. Please tell me.
“Why did you turn away? Why didn’t we ever talk about the real things? The REAL things?”
I never told, so she never asked.
No. Wait.
She never told, so I never asked.
Was it me? No. Was it her? No.
Who was in the wrong? What was it? It had a name.
The p in pneumonia, the b in subtle.
Silence.
#therealvillain