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Friday, March 21, 2003
A Love Story I'm going to tell a story. However, without the gift for prose that some of my peers have, I'll go with another medium. I'm sorry if you don't dig on this. --------------- "Vodka (or, How Things Can Start)" '92: a harsh and tasteless June--- birds beating wings further northward, a plague of mosquitoes, biting, heat setting like humid glue--- that was your summer after high school, my summer of one long party, the summer Love never gave anything back. You said we first met in the kitchen at Tif's. I remember passing through as you shared a private moment with a liter of Gilbey's--- the air laden with conversation you didn't want to have: about the girlfriend I had neglected to bring, or my pot-induced anxiety cresting into paranoia, or the fact that nothing clean nor pure could ever quench your thirst. Perhaps I should have stayed home, you must have thought, mourning your long-lost, faraway someone, waiting in Texas like a vampire for your Life, Love, and virginity--- so much with God, so much like God. But it was another house, another party, another night, on a trampoline, when our words finally came--- triple-distilled. I was holding Cuervo Gold like some glass slipper, slurring a masterwork of small-talk, abandoning all pretense of salt and lime. Maybe you were listening, passively. Maybe it wasn't until I drunkenly called after you had slipped away that I had a voice at all. Or maybe you never heard anything until we rose from our stupid youth like fiery birds, the words Love, Marriage, Forever tumbling from our lips--- practicing them, lying in a hotel in Atlanta three summers later, the wings of what we had newly begun opened for flight, or petals receiving their first whiff of sun--- only to avoid them in six months in our Seventh Avenue apartment between breaking apart and holding fast and you running away to St. Petersburg, or the half-in, half-out days of bodies smashing together, pouring forth, of resistance crashing into openness, of endless contemplation, knowing all the while there was no-one else without really knowing. |