st. patrick's day
I think what makes march so difficult is its transitory position. spring is just so close. I can close my eyes and feel the sun on my shoulders. january was fine- it was january, there was no debating no wondering, I couldn’t even remember what it felt like to sit in the grass. and now my perception is daunted by this combination of sunny skies and icy winds. the dissonance is disgruntling. it leaves me dizzy. it leaves me lost. it leaves it leaves me concluding closer is actually farther away.
and sure you don’t want to hurt me, but you do
there’s a girl sitting across from me on the way home tonight. Her eyes are tired, like their working hard to hold back. I’m looking, trying to determine if its sadness or just cold air. Testimony to the egocentric nature of human beings is the realization that our interpretation of emotion in others is not a reflection of intuitive ability, but rather an expression of our own projected emotional states. Even the window agrees.
the sun is skipping the trees in rhythm, flickering warmth, like your neck on my cheek. the bus driver’s foot is heavy on the gas. it feels like we are moving forward, even on the way back.
last night, I walked through central park with the gates flapping in the wind. new york city can do anything, including resurrect giant orange structures in the middle of 8 million daily cups of coffee. it was inspiring, but ironically flat. my mind measured dimensions and counted stitches in heavy orange fabric, it was a thoughtful process.
When I reached three burning candles around the word imagine, it was better than thoughtful. fresh strawberries underlined and daisies and tulips surrounded. a homeless man sat on the bench facing the memorial with a woman curled into him, telling stories I couldn’t hear. my heart seemed to beat heavy enough to displace organs.
there’s a girl sitting across from me on the way home tonight. to the right of her face, I see tears on my own reflection.
