XVI
Come, take my hand
and stand with me on the edge
of the apocalypse
Put on your red shoes
and jive with me
in tribute to our fallen Duke of Brixton
Listen to the doves as they
cry a lament
for our purple Paisley Park demi-god
Fall down on your knees and
pray with me for
the lives of the brothers and sisters we lost
through the hands of the hate of others
Dance with me on the edge
of the hell fire
of the blood-red dawn spawning of an uncertain dawn
Revel in the masochism
of the simple act of logging in and facing where we are
Dancing with the devil
twenty-four-seven
regardless of the presence of a pale moonlight
Come, take my hand
and stand with me on the edge
This is not the end
This is not the end
although it might feel like the Grand Finale
This is not the end
Tube
The dot matrix display
is on the fritz again
Every train destined to
arrive in eleven minutes
like a space-time loophole condensed into
a solitary London borough
A chorus of disapproving tuts and wheelie suitcases rolling
over the ground
Grunts of the disgruntled morning worker
grunts of my own as the train finally
at long last or not long at all
chugs into the space-time loophole
Leaving in two minutes, leaving in 102 minutes
who knows
This time of day I only know
that I really want a fucking coffee
and a bit of calm before my day begins in earnest
I will get only one of these
And it is never the one
I truly need at the time
The Blue One
By the time her eyes lock with mine at the bar, my mind's already lost the sharp edges. There's a haze building in my body, a pleasant cloud getting ever softer with every sip of lurid blue cocktail. My second one - can't remember the name and the taste makes my throat feel thick with sweetness. This place is a weird one. Too hipster. Too clever for its own good. The East End cocktail science palace or something... whatever it says on their front door, I can't remember.
And tonight I don't care. It wasn't my flat - anywhere that wasn't was alright by me right now.
She smiles as she slips down from her bar stool and makes her way to me. I want to say her eyes are twinkling mischievously but I can't quite make them out until we're face to face. They're gorgeous though, those eyes of hers. Green, to match the drink in the glass in her hand. She's gorgeous too. Irish, from what I can hear, a faint accent drifting melodically on her every word.
Another sip, another softening of the edges of my heart and mind. This was a good idea. With every chuckle, every joke, every warm hit of alcohol I feel myself loosen up again. And it's only now that I realize just how much tension I've been keeping in my bones, storing up the grief that came from an unexpectedly and fiercely broken heart until the physical ache became too much.
She's gorgeous. She's quick-witted. Her green drink's pleasant heat is taking hold of her, too. We talk, as much as we can in the bass-laden soundscape of the Cocktail Science place before she takes my hand and leads me outside. I'm aware of her kissing me - very much so. I'm just stunned into a momentary shock.
I want to kiss her back so much. I want a lot of things, and they're rushing through the thickening haze in my brain like a whirlwind. I want to tell her why I'm out tonight, what happened to my heart and soul that made me turn hermit for the past few... however longs. I want to feel like I'm actually making a start on wrenching myself loose from the grip of heartbreak, from the ache that's been so pleasantly yet so temporarily dulled by brightly colored cocktail science.
I want to feel.
God, I just want to feel again.
She smiles that smile at me. Asks me if I'm okay, if I wanted to be left alone. But I don't want to. I tell her I don't want to and I tell her to just take me somewhere I can breathe again. My voice is thick with the unspoken, with burning alcohol and burning need for a release of this pain. Take me somewhere I can breathe again.
That night, she takes me to places I'd forgotten the existence of. She lets me tell her about an engagement broken off, a bed with an empty space, a flat seemingly cursed with darkness. We lose ourselves in each other's clumsy touches, in the pleasant shock of the new and unknown that comes with this kind of fucking. Ripping the foil of the condom she hands me fills me with a curious glee. I get a contact high from the feeling of her on top of me, of being inside her.
She takes me to places I'd forgotten the existence of. The sun's long since gone down over the city. Today ticks over into tomorrow. And when I wake up next to her, head tender from drinks, I feel...
I feel.
Hours later, and I'm still smiling. Hungover, mildly. But smiling nonetheless. We parted ways with one more kiss, a mutual thank you. Maybe we'll lock eyes across an East End bar again some day. Maybe some day we'll bump into each other. Go for coffee and a chat. Maybe some day.
But for now I'm smiling anyways because I can breathe again.
Although if I ever end up at that cocktail place again, I'll probably stay well clear of the blue one...
Summer/Suspended
I wipe the sweat off my brow
as degrees make the air thick with warmth
People move in all directions
going places, meeting faces in the heat
the heat that makes the outside so inviting
the heat that makes this blossom of summer
delight and agony
-
I wipe the tears from my eyes
even though they've long stopped coming
my body cools in the comfort of this uncomfortable space
heavy with the scent of antiseptic and medication
heavy with the sound of bleeping machines and breaths assisted
Outside, people are going places and meeting faces
and laughing and gasping and celebrating
summer as it sizzles
But here, in this surreality
in this village of suspended animation
I celebrate you, hanging on. I celebrate your strength.
I wipe the sweat from my brow and the phantom sting
of tears from my eyes
as I celebrate how much love there is
in this uncomfortable space
that suddenly doesn't seem as uncomfortable
as the blossom of summer outside
It is everything
Evolution hurts. Evolution is pain. Evolution is uncomfortable truths and learning to cope and adjust to them. Evolution is the end and the beginning of the old and the new. Evolution is glory. It is celebration and dancing and deep, intense love propelling you forward. Work in progress, never finished product. Life lived and moments to come. The sum of parts leading to a new answer.
Evolution is the dawn of time, the moments where we were nothing but a distant fact and Earth and the universe were nothing but molecules waiting for their moment. Evolution is now. Evolution is history, is future, is you and your life and the lives of others and change and regret and power and remorse and revolution and rapture and ecstasy.
Evolution can be found in arrangements of words, in the stories we tell ourselves and others. Evolution can be found in words, here. Evolution is everything and nothing at once. Evolution is the prose of our lives and the lives of others.