Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Free and Clear Please

Six hundred miles of holiday traffic, crappy coffee, sudoku puzzles, fog and turn signals, sleeping reclined, cramped neck. This morning three hundred miles away I woke up to the sound of heavy rain again and again and again. And shushed sounds of my Dad getting up for work, woke enough for shuffling under the tangled sheets for the warmth of my BF sleeping. He rarely snores. I couldn't ask for more.

ACTUALLY I COULD ASK FOR A LOT MORE. I want people who are easy to love, who make the right choices that lead them to happiness and dying in the company of loved ones or not in great lonliness and sorrow. At the very least.

Everyone thinks they know what is best for them, ask for my advice then look at me patronizing... drink more, smoke more, fuck the wrong person more... head inevitably to-ward a cliff, dangle precipitously, scorn me .. and if feels like a wound.

I am arrogant to think I know what is best for you. Yes. I said it.

Like my friend Kate, she calls me heartsick all the time, always late at night, always. It will always be the same. I don't know how to care for you, am so useless.

Under those tangled sheets, halfway here we talked in the dark about who will come to a bad end, how we know, and love them still. Sometimes you let people go, mostly because you don't know how not to, or simply have no choice.

Twice in my life I went to other towns with a picture and a rumor, searching for people who had lost themselves. HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PERSON? HAVE THEY BEEN IN HERE RECENTLY??

Once was with a friend, searching for her father who carried a bowsaw forwith to kill your enemies for he knew they were many and he had none himself...

Another time with my friend Amy we found someone maybe we should not have. Brought him home. Brushed him off. Put him to bed. Two days later I woke up to go to work, found the steering column in my car in sharp plastic pieces torn, found things broken into smaller and smaller pieces, wires exposed, metal bent. In the back seat my friend, curled small. I WAS GOING TO HOTWIRE YOUR CAR AND DRIVE IT OFF A CLIFF INTO THE OCEAN.

Enraged I almost spun into oncoming traffic, left him curled there sick and sad for my whole shift. Tried never to care again, but it was a slow climb down.

We shared the same birthday, though I am four years younger, and are both uselessly left-handed. We were never lovers, though we kissed once on an ill-advised impulse resulting in my roommate trying to run me over with a late 70's model two-door car and chucking a beer bottle at me, not accounting for the physics of a fast moving car.

Years earlier he had taped, one page per word The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses over the Hills onto his walls, savored the sorrow of empty bottles and closed curtains. I should have known better a long time ago.

Years later his two front teeth were punched out of his face when he knocked on the wrong window of the wrong house in a blackout, father of a daughter in late night hours. Sam and I, we wrote a fan-zine for him but had to keep undoing love for him more and more.

He was brilliant, he was writerly, and coming to a bad end. Last time, patience wore thin, I had just moved to Portland, myself treading thin my friendship with Sam... we took him out to the bar and he tried kiss us each, offered to fist fight and steal our things. Maybe he pissed in the corner and probably punched the wall.

It was the end of many things then, that time. A six month funeral for friendships and naivety, and a really painful realization of burden, credulity exhausted.

Even my mother had prophetic dreams, three hundred miles away but I never revealed how. I cant imagine I was easy to love.

where did all that come from?


Six hundred miles, and Christmas many times over. First here, his parents, his brothers, my fathers, a nights rest, my mothers, more... all in a short 36 hours.

The caring and interwoven complicatedness in heavy rain and mountain passes, holiday traffic for three hundred miles, my anxiety growing heavier and heavier.

In the new year I want no-one to worry me.

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