a month ago i wanted to write about the sudden burst of green. one morning, i walked to the top of the basement stairs and there it was: green. exploded on every branch, in clumps, turning the corner into spring.
tonight as i was closing the windows, it’s all i can smell. trees. the premonition of rain wafting in. the cooling of the evening, even at 12:55am, makes me want to take off my socks and lay on the couch.
you? yes, of course i would want to be with you, to share it, to enjoy it. it’d be better that way.
a month ago, the sudden burst of green signaled other changes. i smiled about it then. i knew it was stupid. trite. cliché. but sometimes our feelings are cliché to others, even when rendered in absolute sincerity by our hearts. yes, our hearts. my heart. it was drawing a picture in the green time.
to get in my car, clean the windshield, look at the empty space - and smile, because i knew that later it would not be empty. much like the trees were no longer empty. and if you want to call a tree a metaphor, you can do that too.
but then it rained. rained and rained and rained. literal. the month was drowning the city and us along with it. or maybe just me, and you never knew. i never said, but i think you suspected.
tonight, with rain on its breath, and the trees breathing cool on the silent street. this quiet spot on the comp, in the cross breeze, would be better if i could share it with someone, i thought. i was closing the blind on the far right as i thought this, and i thought of you. it would be nice to spend it with you.
but you’ve decided it would be nicer to spend all these sorts of moments with yourself.
so what do you do under such circumstances? raise the boombox high and hope you’ve made the right choice?
or let the water flow in through the open windows to flood the apartment, knowing you won’t float as the water rises.
the hole in the chest being cut too wide, the will being too weak.