I'll See You in Chicago

Remember the night we drove all through town to say goodbye?

Left me with my memories for the longest time, passing all the streets where I had been without us - you had scruff and shaggy hair then, and just kept driving. 

Suitcases, and flowers wrapped in blue tissue paper in the backseat, - now there was no turning back. 

There was just one more night to feel safe.  

So I rested my arm on your shoulder to scratch your neck, like I had in New York when we got lost - and Sufjan went through all the tracks twice.

"I'll see you in two days in Chicago baby. Everything will be o.k."

...

The "People"

The city must not have ever been so quiet as it was this morning. 

Blanketing, it seemed to bu-bump-bump-breathe like a beat, …as long black lines of faceless companions travelled with me. 

"There's just that, my question ya know…'Do the people meant to be together really get to be together?', and I.. just believe they do" he said. 

And I didn't agree. 

I rubbed my foot into the place in the carpet where there's a red wine splatter stain. It needs to be white-scrubbed away but I like that it's there. Like any sweet secret reminders of granted chances. Stolen chances that seemed so right. 

"I think that there are people….people that believe that's true - maybe because they believe it's fate, …and people that believe - like me - that sometimes you lose that person you're meant to be with. Sometimes you both hurt each other and can't forget. Maybe those "people you're meant to be with", are just -people it works with"

And he didn't agree. 

He rubbed the back of his neck, like he does when I scare him, and started index finger-clicking start&stop the scenes of raw footage. 

Hung up the phone later and was startled to still see Chicago out of my tall windows, he was 700 miles away in a burrow of Brooklyn and I was smiling. 

Because there's a joy in having survived! 

There's a beautiful deserted pleasure to being lonely and gone, and past, and… I'm afraid to say I embrace each time - Old Friend! You've been gone.. - the thought that at least something to the left will richen. 

Enriches my work with senses, trinkets of nights, ...with all the fiery-pink triggers of familiar past companions now gone silent.
That works.
The nights, and days, and ART and tales go on for measureless hours; that I so desire to make feel like twirling down a lane. To make exhausting and delightful. 

Wrong till Now

Think that I've been so very wrong. 

To think, oh to think - that I could out run all the angry mobs. The angered, clawing, mobs that wreak and stink of the decayed remnants of every sacrifice I made to be. 

Made to be the ever-loving humble servant. Made to bend, and dance, and stroke and seduce to succeed in having every single one. 

So that every single one moans as bones crack, like cigarette heads broken in the muddied snow, immediately exhaling and knowing that the thing has ended. 

I know that it ended.

I know every day that it did and I can't - I can't afford the cost of a carton of startings-again, can't afford the welled up eyes from new architectural layouts of where I practiced, where I prophesied.

Where, that I was loved. 

And on the mob does fall about my very feet, when I sleep - and think (stop thinking!) - that the sheets are much too thin, the space much too close…and the air does rip-tear in open silence. So I do stutter at the sight - of the looming decision, glowing with green eyes through the French window pane. 

Cack! Cackcackcack! goes the beastly leader. 

I want it no much longer. Want it all settled in the death I made for it one night - when I turned, and sighed, looked her in the eyes and said "Let's go".

Let's go on from this bio trance - and break it all in stomping riotous flailings. 

I've torn to bits a part or two. 

And now they whimper still. 

Whimperings do say that joyous motions mean finally actually opening the vine-covered ruins.

And that's where I've been so very wrong, suffocating the very best and beautiful. 

Suffocating the heads of wonderful, weird ideas.

So instead let us skip down the merry lane lined with tall black iron fences. 

Let us all just merrily be! 

That does not "mean" a merry thing, but that we can just breathe in the smell of roasted feasts and hearty wines…to mask all of that decay.