I am so out of tune with you
My, it has been a while. I've been away. I'm in Alice Springs right now, where the railroads came in 1929 linking it with the major cities. I want to go everywhere. I'm down because I don't even remember how to hope to travel, I've been so resigned to the stationary existence.
I am done with student teaching and it has taken a toll. The writer in me has fallen down somewhere below and I can hear him breathing but can't get down there yet. With sleep he will return. I will sit alone at my desk in the lamplight, typing on the laptop I've yet to finish paying for, maybe Leonared Cohen will be there.
There was a lonely traveling cloud in the sky tonight.
I thought of you, stretched horizontal in the mid-morning sun, bare midriff, smiling at me, smiling at the world through unjaded eyes.
The lights glowed fiercly. I sung along to music from the Isle of the Moon. Perhaps tonight was an awakening of a frustrated part of my spirit. I feel dormant parts of my brain flickering and then flaring to life just as the world reaches the pinnacle of northern darkness and the weary hum of progress and loss nears its apex. Sorrow. Joy. Inexorably linked and inseperable, I react in one and rest in the other.
I thought of you as the lights from the distant spires and the tribal fires swelled to meet the lustre of your eyes. We danced, our hands entwined, on a soil so foreign it felt alien and somehow just right, like a long forgotten dream. A giggling rain fell upon us, like silver thread, as we retired to our bed secure in the beauty of embrace and the sacredness of a tomorrow together and the sun came slanting in and you stretched to meet the day and I realized that I don't know you but have always known you.
And then I woke up. To the snow. And felt the warmth of your touch slowly fading.
And the lonely cloud was joined by another.
May I soon see the misplaced towers of the Hilton and the murky waters of Anosy, and a great bunching of traveling clouds on the edge of a tropical rain. And you, standing, smiling from the depths of your unjaded eyes, waiting for me at the station, like you've always known me.
My, it has been a while. I've been away. I'm in Alice Springs right now, where the railroads came in 1929 linking it with the major cities. I want to go everywhere. I'm down because I don't even remember how to hope to travel, I've been so resigned to the stationary existence.
I am done with student teaching and it has taken a toll. The writer in me has fallen down somewhere below and I can hear him breathing but can't get down there yet. With sleep he will return. I will sit alone at my desk in the lamplight, typing on the laptop I've yet to finish paying for, maybe Leonared Cohen will be there.
There was a lonely traveling cloud in the sky tonight.
I thought of you, stretched horizontal in the mid-morning sun, bare midriff, smiling at me, smiling at the world through unjaded eyes.
The lights glowed fiercly. I sung along to music from the Isle of the Moon. Perhaps tonight was an awakening of a frustrated part of my spirit. I feel dormant parts of my brain flickering and then flaring to life just as the world reaches the pinnacle of northern darkness and the weary hum of progress and loss nears its apex. Sorrow. Joy. Inexorably linked and inseperable, I react in one and rest in the other.
I thought of you as the lights from the distant spires and the tribal fires swelled to meet the lustre of your eyes. We danced, our hands entwined, on a soil so foreign it felt alien and somehow just right, like a long forgotten dream. A giggling rain fell upon us, like silver thread, as we retired to our bed secure in the beauty of embrace and the sacredness of a tomorrow together and the sun came slanting in and you stretched to meet the day and I realized that I don't know you but have always known you.
And then I woke up. To the snow. And felt the warmth of your touch slowly fading.
And the lonely cloud was joined by another.
May I soon see the misplaced towers of the Hilton and the murky waters of Anosy, and a great bunching of traveling clouds on the edge of a tropical rain. And you, standing, smiling from the depths of your unjaded eyes, waiting for me at the station, like you've always known me.
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