o M.,
the pictures you sent. marching. in your beret. the queen’s crown at your shoulder. your green uniform. pressed. your perfect tie. tight.
I remember you showed me the inside of your briefcase. (that cold night we had). it rattled with tidiness. pads of paper. pens, sharp pencils. your to-do list, an accountant’s ledger. efficient. your business in Vancouver done in three hours. and I thought we had a weekend. ahead.
and I remember your face pressed up against my passenger window looking in. amazed. that anyone would fill a truck with that much crap. books, three flamenco skirts, flamenco shoes (why two pairs you asked), three moleskines (one for notes, one for dreams, one just for you), hair brush, torn maps (you have a GPS), three tall empty starbucks cups, orange peel, yellowed newspaper, hair ties looped around the rear view mirror, dog leash, gum wrappers, ferry tickets, three old New Yorkers, my new black MacBook. everything but a pen or pencil or piece of useful paper.
then later when you held me. so fiercely. I wondered if I could take you. your arms your chest hard to all my softness.
M. you left right left right. 1 2 1 2 1 2 in polished boots. straight. back stiff with purpose. across the garrison. across Wainwright. across Afghanistan. down main street. parade ground.
and I right left right planta tacón turn turn remate. my compas,
12 / / 3/ / 6 / 8 / 10 / 12 / / 3 / / 6 / 8 / 10 / 12 / / 3/ / 6 / 8 / 10 / 12 / / 3/ / 6 / 8 / 10 / 12
in handmade shoes (with cherry heels and 100 silver nails hammered into their soles flown to me all the way from Spain). in the studio five times a week. wear black and purple. have no direction.
but you. so far away (again). not asking me to stay. or come to you.
o M., the pictures you sent.
marching. in your beret. the queen’s crown at your shoulder. your green uniform. pressed. your perfect tie. tight. gorgeous.
S
4 comments:
i like the circular nature of this one, how it returns to the opening lines and adds to them. i like the contrast of the two lovers, their steps (fun use of numbers), their belongings. i love the list of things in the truck. a pleasure to read.
I almost don't know what to say about this one that I haven't said about the others in the series, except that you're doing marvelous work this month...and I'm a little jealous!
gracias ariel, bren, I don't know where I'm going with this series. I'm using it as a pencil sharpening exercise for my afghanistan work and I'm totally enjoying it as well as the comments.I started out thinking I'd write pure war stuff but then became intrigued with the fallout of war.
I could tell you dance the Flamenco (I used to). The rhythm of this piece is Very Flamenco-ish - I could feel the gypsy steps mixing in with 'his' military march. Très cool!
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