"Think"

Think about it. Seriously think about it. I am sitting in class and the professor is telling us all to think about it. Seriously think about it. Think about the situation that he has put forward and deliberate on its merits and its causes and concerns and come up with a scenario that will answer the question, fix the problem, and save the world, because, yes, of course, that is what we do in college is save the world for the world is always in need of saving and need of help and we are the students who are to come up with the answers and the ideas that will change the world and make things different and better and fix everything because even though we are learning and we are thinking and we are being taught to think in the right way and the most educated way we are still the ones who will have all the answers and fix all the problems and save the world this time because it really needs to be saved this time because we have never had a situation as bad as the one we are in right now and there are so many problems and yeah people had difficult times in the past but now the world is falling apart and we can fix everything if we can change the present by knowing the answers by coming up with the solutions and by thinking, thinking of the right things at the right times to make everything better because it needs to be better, way better, than it is now because we are going to make it better by having the right thought to answer all the questions and everything will be alright.

So I think and I thought and I concentrate, I do concentrate. But I do not have the answer. I do not have the answers today. I keep thinking about the wrong things. My mind is somewhere else. My thoughts are elsewhere in some other time and place and I cannot think of the proper and correct answers to the questions that are before us in this classroom where we are supposed to know the answers and the answers are to be forthcoming because we can change and save the world if we can think, if we can think.

But I cannot think today. I am trying to think. I want to think. But it is all so much to think today because the world needs saving today, and I have to save the world today, and the thought of trying to save the world and come up with the answers and figure out everything that needs to be figured out is so much to think about and so even though he has asked us in the classroom a simple easy question and we should have a simple easy answer I cannot think of anything but the overwhelming responsibility of saving the world that needs me to save it because the world is going to go to hell in a handbasket if I do not come up with the right solution to the problems in the world. And no, I am just a human, a simple human, I am no more different than you or you or you or anyone and yet here I am in the midst of class and a simple question is before us all and I cannot think because thinking of the answer inevitably involves thinking of all of the answers to all the of the question to save the world and fix the problems and worry about my family and worry about my friends and think about my life and their lives and the love in the world that will not be around anymore if I cannot think of the answer that needs to be found. But I am just a simple human and I cannot think of all the answers and all the problems needing to be fixed because my mind will explode trying to think of all of them and think of all the answers when I don’t know which one to start with when they are all so many in front of us and all so many in need of answers and how do I know that if I start with one that I should not think of the answer to another because the other one is more important than the one that I am currently thinking about right now even though it may not seem to be as important, but it really is, in the grander scheme of things and conversely what if the question before me is the one that I really do need to answer which will lead to the answers to the questions that need to be answered and it will all flow in due time but, but, but, the answer before me alludes me and escapes my mind and will not allow itself to be found no matter how much I may think and concentrate and no matter how much thought I give the matter.

And then, and then, if I do answer the question before me but in the time that it is before me and in the time in which I thought of the answers and the thoughts I have wasted the necessary time before me to answer the larger question that I had forgotten to consider and neglected to think and therefore the world will not be saved today, will not be saved at all, because I did not think of the answer to the question that needed answered even though I had not thought of it but that’s the point is that I had not thought of it and I should have, I should have, I really really should have thought of it because if I am to be a good person and be fully constructed and live up to my full potential and remember that I am given only one chance in the world and in this world that needs saving I need to save it and my one chance was lost because I thought of the wrong question and therefore came up with the wrong answer and therefore wasted my time and wasted the world’s time and frankly wasted the world because I should have spent my time thinking about the world and thinking of the question and coming up with the answer that would inevitably save the world and help us all in this great time of need and all would be well with the world because I would have done what I needed to do but I am too selfish and stupid and lame and messed up and overwhelmed to really know what the right thing to do when I really should have know, I simply should have known, it’s very simple I should have known what the right thing was and I did not know and I did not consider and I did not think and I left it all a mess when I should have thought of the right things and done the right things and saved the world and saved the world because somehow even though I am simply a simple human being I can save the world if I simply supply it with the right answer to the right question if I can simply come up with these right things but I am always overthinking and wasting time when I should be doing these things but I cannot I cannot I cannot because I have not the will to save the world because I am not good enough to save the world and I want to lie down, lie prone, lie still and breathe and try to breathe, but I know that if I waste time doing any of these things I will be wasting more time and wasting more energy and wasting more effort and simply wasting more of my life when I should be fulfilling everything I need to do and fulfilling all the goals that I should be striving to fulfill and fix all the problems of the world so that I can fix the world and save the world and everything, then, everything will be alright. Everything will be alright.

But here we are, I am back, in the class, with my professor, and he asks us to think, he asks us to come up with a scenario to answer his question and solve the riddle and it is all I can do to breathe and think about all the things that I have to do, that I should be doing, that I need to think about, that I want to answer, and he asks each of us one more time, what is the answer to two plus two equals…

"Dog"

My dog keeps my secrets.
I cannot tell anyone else. My life, my real life, the truth about myself.
I cannot tell anyone else in the world about the truth of my life.
So I tell my dog.
She listens.
She hears me.
Lord knows what she thinks.
But I know that she hears me.
And I know that she supports me.

There are times when I am home alone, away from the world, and away from all the people in my life, and she is my only ear. And while she may not know exactly what I say, and I know not whether she understands the specifics, I know that she hears me, and I know that she loves me. And I know that she is there with me. During all these times. These many times.

There have been many nights when I have taken her counsel by simply placing my trust in her with my secrets that only she and I share. I look into her eyes, I try not to cry, and I tell her every little detail that I am too ashamed and guilty to share with anyone else.

One night after having done something of which should not be done, I am alone with her now, and I pull up beside her, I lay my head next to hers, I rest my hand along her back, I slowly brush the hairs with my fingers, and I begin to tell her my secret. I raise my head and I look into her eyes, and I gush it all out so. She stares back at me. Her eyes droop inside their sockets and she looks at me puzzled and raises her head and just looks and looks and looks at me. She licks my face. I kiss her head. I cry on her shoulder.

My secret is out. Now I have said it. I have told someone my secrets. And as I contemplate the fact now that I have said what I have said and done what I have done and told someone what I have told, I realize now that there is no turning back. The world knows my secrets. It is not just a secret that rests within my soul and can vanish away as if I made it all up in my head. I know that I had this moment with she who heard me whisper these facts out to the world by the sound of my voice and the use of my throat and the weight of my breath. So while she has heard my secrets, spoken, voiced, announced, and she will keep them to herself and no one will hear of them from her. The truth is, while my dog has heard my secrets, and as I have told them and spoken them and voiced them outloud, the fact of the matter is, the truth really is, that she is not the only one who heard them, for whether I want to believe it or not, whether I can stomach it or not, whether she soothes my truths with her eyes and her love and her support, whatever the case may be, the truth and the fact and of all that matters in the world, is that assuredly, I have heard them too.

"Wear"

Naked. Showered. Cleaned. Dried.

I grab a pair of new underwear and pull them up my legs and around my butt.

That I can do. Easily.

Now comes the hard part.

I avoid that by changing the subject. I grab my bottles of pills, a few from this bottle, a few from that one, one more from another, place them all in my hand which is now filled and folded over to hold them all. Going to the kitchen to get a glass of water, I continue to avoid the subject by knowing that I am at least doing something productive that will lead me further to the next parts of the day.

I bend my head backwards, dropping in a few pills at a time, wash them down with a gulp of water, drop some more and gulp again, and so on, until all the multiple rituals of my daily drug habit are finalized.

I place the cup down.

I head back over to my closet to get back to the heart of the matter.

If I am to leave my house today I must do what I must do. I have the whole big day before me. I have so many opportunities in the world. Only the hardest and easiest choices of the day must be made. That’s all that’s really left before us at any time. And this before me is the before me before I move and continue on to the next before me moment before me.

I’m concentrating. I really am. I’m doing my best to consider all the options and make one, just one simple decision that will allow me to move forward.

But within this contemplation lies the consternation.

Who am I? Ok, I need to sit down.

No, no, I can do this. I can do this. Seriously, let’s do this. Ok, ok.

Let’s see.

I pull down a blue shirt. Ok, I know I’m wearing jeans today. That’s easy. The new ones. The ones I really love right now. I am so wearing those today. I throw those on the bed so I feel like I’ve made a decision and I’m that much closer to moving ahead in life.

I have the blue shirt in hand. I look at it, feel the texture, study the artwork that I really do love, but I wonder if this how I feel today. Am I feeling this color, this art, this look, this size, this this this decision which will decide everything I am for this day before me? The blue does look good, it goes with my eyes, it keeps me warm enough on this day, oh, but wait, I don’t know the temperature today.

I stop.

I go over to the computer, pull up the weather, and see that the weather will be greatly influential in my decisions before me as it will open my mind to certain choices and close it to others. Ok, simple, yes, simple, now I know that the blue shirt could work, yes the blue shirt could work. But is it right? Do I want the blue shirt to work? It is possible that if I wear the blue shirt today and later I realize that I would have better chosen another, then I have made the ultimate incorrect judgment at the beginning of the day full of judgments and decisions and therefore it has ruined all those future decisions and judgments before me throughout the day before me. Therefore I must contemplate much deeper and harder and with more intelligence than I do have in my little mind.

Oh, I know I am intelligent and can do this and have done it (nearly) every day of my life. (Yes, ok, I’ll admit there were times in my past when I could not do it. There, I’m guilty. It’s true.) But I can do this. I really can.

The blue shirt is still in my hand. I’m closing the deal. But then I think of that one time when I wore the blue shirt and
and
and
um
well that was that one time when I wore the blue shirt and he wore the gray shirt and we went to that diner and we talked and talked and laughed and laughed and he told me that story about going fishing as a child with his father and I told him that story about fishing with my family and we ended up reminiscing together about fishing in the days of our youth and I remember wearing this blue shirt and thinking about how it was perfect for the day’s conversation because it was blue and the water for fishing is blue and it was a similar blue color to water and he was wearing gray and that made me think of the fish and together I thought we had melded together for that day and that time and this moment and this conversation so well that there was simply no better combination for this conversation and his thoughts were connecting so well to mine and we were connecting so well and maybe, just maybe, just yeah, maybe, this was going to work out fine, yeah, this was going to work out fine because we were able to wear blue and wear gray and talk about the water and the fish and our youth and our times with family and we were smiling and laughing and connecting, yes, really connecting, and he had the hamburger and I had some of his fries and he had some of my chips and we were connecting like I had always thought that we might connect and hoped to connect but didn’t realize it would seriously be possible until this day when we were in this diner and we were eating and talking about fishing and I was wearing this blue shirt and he was wearing that gray shirt and it was perfect, it was perfect, and I took a photo of him even though he shied away from the camera and gave an awkward smile, but I still have that photo, somewhere, and I used to look at that photo all of the time because it was such a special moment and a special day and I loved how he awkwardly smiled and I remembered how we talked about fishing and our youth and we were connecting while I was wearing blue and he was wearing gray.

That was years ago now.

He is in a different universe of time and life now. I know not where. I just know that I am here and he is not. And I am holding this blue shirt. Does he still have the gray one? Does he ever think of that time when I wore the blue shirt and he wore the gray one and I took a picture of his awkward smile and does he know that I still have that photo, somewhere, and know that sometimes I envision that time and place and conversation when I remember and whether I want to remember or not I do remember sometimes and I wonder does he remember and does he care about that time and place and those shirts we wore? We did wear them. I have proof. I have a photo. And I remember. I remember.

No, I don’t think I can wear the blue shirt today. Too many thoughts right now and I’m not moving forward. I’m standing here, nearly naked, in my underwear, holding this blue shirt, and needed to move forward, but I’ve just placed the blue shirt back in its spot where it lives when not being worn.

There is the yellow shirt before me. I glance at it before me. But no, oh no, there is no way I can wear that shirt today. I’m surprised I still have it.

I bought that yellow shirt with him.

That yellow shirt. I really do love that yellow shirt. I really did love buying that yellow shirt with him and wearing that yellow shirt with him and thinking about how good I looked in that yellow shirt, with him, when we were together that one time when we connected so well. I’m not sure, I’m really not sure, what the difference is between the time of then and the time of now and how we were connecting so well then and we are in different places now. And I wonder if I should get rid of the yellow shirt altogether so that I never have to face it again and I no longer have to think about that time and that place and that connection because it’s gone, really gone, and it’s been gone for years now, years, so I really shouldn’t think about it anymore, really shouldn’t worry about whether the yellow shirt or the blue shirt reminds me of this time or that time with him or without him because it doesn’t matter, it really doesn’t matter, that was years ago and those years have passed and I am ok, I really am ok, and I have a life that I’m living and a daily ritual that I enjoy and a mind that keeps racing from moment to moment to moment. So I must be doing ok, so no, I need not get rid of these shirts simply because they remind me of those times because I am fine and I can handle the historical references in my wardrobe and I can move forward and I do look good, really good, in this blue shirt and this yellow shirt and no, I am not going to let a little thing like this or that or any of these historical references and remembrances interfere with my happiness with how I look in them, no, I am not going to let anything interfere with that.

But then, even so, yes, even so, I cannot wear either the blue shirt or the yellow shirt today. No, I cannot, it’s just too much, right now, when I have the whole moment of the beginning of the day before me and I want it to be a positive day and not a historical reference day that reminds me of a good time or a bad time or really a good time that is still a good time but is hard because it’s no longer a good time in my daily life because that time is gone and over and there is no more good time with him because we are not in the same place and time anymore like we once were when we were connecting and together, especially like that really good time we had at the diner when I wore this blue shirt and he wore that gray shirt.

So I will not wear this blue shirt, nor will I wear this yellow shirt. Not today at least. Not today.

I grab a red shirt.


Oh.
Wait.
No.
Not today.
Goddamn, not today.
Of all days, it’s goddamn Valentine’s Day.
And I am not participating in that horrid of horrid goddamn days.
First, I am not with anyone, since he is not around, on this day of days for those whose hearts are full and eyes are blind. So being without anyone, without him, without, means I am not within this situation and I am therefore not thinking about it or participating in it or wanting anything to do with it. Secondly, these days of quote unquote celebration never seem to amount to anything to me or anyone other than a requirement of servitude to the altar of the gods of necessity and commerce. I am not participating in such a statement of the universe. No, I am not.

So I will not wear that red shirt.
Nor will I wear that blue shirt nor that yellow shirt.
No I will not.
There are of course many many many more options, but it is all so much before me in this moment before me and I am simply overwhelmed once again with the many multitude of multiple options that I do not want to have to consider or contemplate any more any of these contemplations that are leaving me once again with a pit, a sour pit, a hard pit a difficult pit in my stomach, in my empty stomach, my empty stomach that needs something to fulfill it but which I cannot fathom right now because I am stranded in this place in between this shirt or that shirt and this thought and that thought and this moment and this moment and this this this moment that is before me.

And he’s not here. And I am nearly naked. And I have nothing to wear.



"Phone (Wear epilogue)"

Pick up pick up pick up pick up pick up pick up! Please, please, pick up pick up, please, pick up. It just continues to ring and ring and ring. There is no answer. There is no answer to my cries to pick up. There is no answer to my needs to answer the questions the many questions that I have in my mind on this day when the guilt and sadness and paranoia have settled into my mind like it has been before but which I had managed to ignore but now, it is no longer able to be ignored and has settled in my mind in my head between my ears, and throughout my full body to where my head and my heart and my toes and my joints all are in unison that I must, I simply have to, reach him today. If I can talk to him today, if he hears my thoughts today perhaps my thoughts will be released the right way, the only way that’s best, and they will make up for the fact that we have not talked in a long time and my guilt and my sadness and my paranoia will be appeased, to some extent, possibly, so that everything will be ok, everything will indeed be ok, if he just picks up, pick up, please pick up.

I know, I’m not supposed to call, I’m not supposed to be calling, I’m not even supposed to be thinking, I’m supposed to be fine and well and good and well and good and well adjusted to everything and well everything is just fine and hunky dorey and yeah, I’m fine and I am fine, it’s true I am fine and whatever has happened in the past is just that the past because it was a long time ago and I am fine and all is well and there is nothing to worry about but well here I am wishing for him to pick up because I have thought of the things that I am not supposed to think about and I thought that maybe I could call him and express these items and thoughts in a way that he might hear and we might discuss and all will be better even though, yes, I am fine but I could, yes, be better, and well, yes, it’s true I could be better, so much better, but right now, I need him to pick up so I can get an answer to my call so I can get an answer to my question, all of my questions, all of the questions from the past and back when and long ago and currently today because the questions are not really any different than they used to be because they were never really fully answered or they might have been sort of answered but I did not want to think about the answers in the way that they were and the way that I heard them or noticed them or thought of them and so I do not consider the questions answered at all and my call has still not, still not, still not been answered no matter how many times I long for an answer there is no answer forthcoming.

No answer forthcoming. No answer to my call. No answers to my questions. No opportunity to settle my mind. My mind will continue to be unsettled because there is no answer and are no answers and all is long ago and far away and I am here, I am here, and he is not, and I still have nothing to wear.

Hold

He sleeps as I hold him. Tight. Warm. Tender.

I press the tips of my fingers against the skin that I touch. These fingers, these extremities of my own, sharing my energy with his, feeding off of the touch. Does he feel the touch in the same way?

Sure he is sleeping now. He may not realize the touch is there. The energy. The flow. Perhaps he does though. Within his quiet dreams he can sense my senses throughout his physical system which reverberates within his physical system which gives him a sense of more than himself.

I stretch my arm around him a bit further. Hold him tighter. Feel the light hair on his chest against the inside of my arm. It feels soft and light. It gives off a soothing touch to me. I wonder if he can feel these things. I wonder as he sleeps. Quietly.

My eyes are open. His are not. My pupils are dilated from the dark but still can see enough to him to hold my attention. I realize continually how beautiful he is. It seems inconceivable that I am here next to this person, this warm sentient being, this aura of nature, this physical life. This being is here with me, allowing my touch, while he sleeps. He must believe that he can trust me enough to be alone with him and have him in my arms as he sleeps. And yet, I wonder, what does he truly think of me? How did we get to this place and time where one day I am holding him while he sleeps when another time before there was a time when we knew nothing of each other and the thought of having me, me, who I am, me, holding him, who he is, would have been furthest from his mind. And these dreams that I have had in the past of holding someone next to me, could they have conceived a time like this, the quiet stillness of the night when I have in my arms someone so gentle and beautiful and asleep.

My mind wanders to what he must think of me. What he must truly think of me. Oh, I know what I think he thinks of me. And, of course, I know what he has told me he thinks. For that, I have parsed every word, every nuance, every syllable, into innumerable measures of thoughts and respect and affection and hopes and dreams and reasons. But, how do I know how he truly thinks and feels. Perhaps what he says is the opposite of what he really means. Perhaps the way he says what he says is misinterpreted by my mind into making a different sense for my mind instead of the sense that it made for his mind and I am completely wrong about what he is or thinks or wants or why he is even here, in front of me, being held by me, with my arms wrapped around him, as he sleeps.

I can see his ear directly in front of me. It’s a regular ear. A normal ear. An ear for hearing. Just like every other ear in the world. Some hear, some do not, some better than others. All ears are pretty much made the same for the same reasons and make the same functions as any other ears out there in the world. I suppose. But I wonder. Here is his ear, directly in front of me, as he sleeps, as I hold him. Can he hear my thinking? What if he can hear my thinking? What if he isn’t really asleep but pretending to be asleep so that he may surreptitiously hear my thoughts while I think he is not awake so that my thoughts are more clear to him because he has this sixth sense ability to hear thoughts when its quiet, as it is quiet here tonight, in the stillness of the dark night, while my eyes are open and my pupils are dilated, and my thoughts are more open and full because I believe he is asleep and I am lulled into a sense of feeling as if he is comfortable in my arms because that is what he wants me to think since that is what he wants me to think so that I think more and more so that he can hear more and more of my thoughts so that he can use my thoughts against me in the days and weeks and years ahead. Whenever and wherever we are, I am the one who is baring my soul to him, without my knowledge, because I am speaking even if I am unawares and he is listening with his strange extraordinary gift that no one knows about but him.

Oh, wait, what if he isn’t the only one with this gift? What if it’s actually a gift everyone has and I am only a pawn in the rest of the world’s game to hear my thoughts and my ideas and my repugnant notes that I didn’t mean to think but my mind races sometimes and I think them and then I try to put them out of my mind but they still went racing through my mind without my full consent. How would others react? Perhaps they already know what I’m thinking all the time and I am simply the anomaly in the world that cannot hear what others are thinking and it’s a world-wide secret to keep it unknown to me so that everyone can hear what I am thinking so that they can make fun of me behind my back?

Ok, ok, ok, ok, I’m going off and off onto a wild plane of thoughts that make no realistic sense. I know, I know. I need to be real. He cannot hear my thoughts. No one can hear my thoughts. I know it’s not human. It’s just my thoughts overwhelming my sense of self to make myself feel more vulnerable and worried than need be.

So let’s get back to reality and remember that these thoughts are only thoughts and not really thoughts that need explaining but are simply thoughts that occur late in the night as one is holding one’s other and seeing in the dark with dilated pupils and the mind wanders and wonders in many unexpected territories.

What would happen if I whisper a sweet nothing into his the ear that is directly in front of me right now? I mean, a true sound, not one in which I am imagining he can hear my thoughts, but a real sound that I mean to make with my vocal chords and my tongue and my lips. What would happen? Would he hear this sound? Would he hear it enough to wake or drift awake slightly or awaken fully or would he not hear it at all but hear it only in his unconscious sleep and perhaps it will effect only his internal microcosmos of cells and DNA and other nucleuses and microns and negative and positive neutrons and all those internal gizmos.

If I whisper something now, wait, should I, truly, express this energy forward to where it would possibly effect him? Or should I not expend the energy at this time, wait for a better time, perhaps in a few seconds, perhaps in 5 minutes, perhaps in the morning when I know that he is awake. Perhaps I should never speak into the ear in front of me. Perhaps I should not even be here. For really, how did I get here and he get here to where one of us is holding the other and one of us is asleep in the other’s arms? How do we know that this is all real anyway. What if I am the one asleep and I am only dreaming this dream that I am awake with the lights off and my eyes dilated and my arms wrapped around someone next to me that I wish and hope for but that is not really in front of me in the real life because it is only in my dream life state of being. But let us say that for the sake of argument and the time being that this is the real life and I am truly and naturally holding this person in front of me with my arms while he sleeps. So I am really here and he is really here and we are really together, this night, this time, for right now, in this moment, and I can feel his energy next to mine and he, supposedly in his unconscious dreamlike state, can feel my energy next to his. And I am holding him and he is being held and in this next moment I am taking in a breath and then breathing it back out in a quiet soft sigh. I wonder if he can hear that quiet soft sigh that I just expressed. I did not mean for it to be heard, but what if it made just loud enough of a noise that he could hear it, or what if the sigh was expressed through my body enough that my chest raised just a bit to where it pressed against his back just a bit which was enough to compress his back to where he felt it and my energy touched his energy a bit more and he felt it and awoke and thought about what it was to be lying here next to me with my arms wrapped around him while he slept?

Does he like the fact that I am holding him while he sleeps? Does he like it when I press my fingers on his skin and feel the hair that is on his chest while he is trying to rest? Does he wish that I was not really here and had gone before the time for bed so that he could really rest and that my being here with my arms wrapped around him while he slept was in actuality a hindrance to his getting a good night’s rest but he is too much of a gentleman or has an inability to speak what he truly feels and just let me stay with him in this bed holding him while he slept so he never said anything even though he may have wanted to but did not have the words often like we all often do not have the words we mean to say so we put up with people and things and situations all the time that are truly things with which we need not put up with and situations which are rightly sung in songs around the radio dial where we finally realize that we can speak up and be of ourselves fully and then are lionized on the daily talk shows for those who finally got up the gumption and the nerve to speak up enough to raise their voice against the issues and situations that are of a nerve to them and they are proud of their inner and now outer strength and they are again lionized and prized by others who believe that they can be like that too and will be like that too, one day, when it matters, in the midst of a situation like this where they wish they could speak up and then they will because they heard that song or watched that daily television program and knew that it was a prized thing to do was to speak up when one has a situation where one needs to speak up.

And so one wonders, what if this were a situation where he meant to speak up and wanted to speak up and needed to speak up and tell me that he truly did not want me here holding him while he slept but he simply did not have the strength to make the words come out of his throat this time, but he promised himself that he would in the time of the next because he really needed to get some good sleep and he really didn’t know how he felt about me and he really probably knows that he shouldn’t be here with me and that I am not right for him and he can sense that the future does not hold us together and we have no future together and he is wasting my time and my energy when he feels that I should be expressing with someone else while I am pressing my fingers and wrapping my arms and unloading my energy in the dark quiet night with my eyes dilated looking at someone else because he does not have the heart to tell me what he is really feeling even though he needs to, but just couldn’t tonight, so he will tell me tomorrow, after we have slept, or at least soon, because he really needs to and wants to but hasn’t had the words yet.

So I breathe softly on his neck and sigh and sigh and sigh because I know this is the end and the last time I will be able to hold him in my arms while he sleeps because even though he is here with me now I know that at some point he will have the strength to tell me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore or that he doesn’t feel he’s good enough for me or that he wants to see other people or that I’m just someone in the way of what he wants for his life and even though he cares dearly for me and has liked being held by me in the past there simply is never any more good times to be had because those times are over and he should have said something before when he needed to but he could not for fear and paranoia and he did truly want to give it a try, give us a try, for the sake of trying, and because he did think I was cool enough to try and he knew that I liked him more and more and probably more than I should and more than he did and so he wanted to be nice and allow me to spend time with him so that we could try and see where it goes but clearly it was not going anywhere and we were only pretending that we were in this together because while I was hoping and dreaming, he was really moping and scheming on ways to get out of it and would do so as soon as he could figure out a way to do so without it seeming like he came off like a jerk because he doesn’t want to be a jerk whether he feels he is being a jerk or not because he is simply being himself and honesty is the best policy and he needs to be honest with me and with everyone if he is to live his life and if he can’t be honest with himself than he can’t be honest with anyone and so that honesty will be translated into words that can be expressed tomorrow after this quiet dark night while I’m holding him while he sleeps while he thinks that I am lying here happily believing he is happy with me when he doesn’t have the ability to speak the truth and I don’t have the perceptive abilities to know what is before me, that within these arms and within my energy and next to my lips and face and chest and body is this body that will not be here tomorrow and not be here the next day and never be near me again even though he assuredly has told me this is coming with his nuance and vague references and secret plots and grandiose thoughts that I should get and should know but I simply don’t because I am a stupid romantic fool, stupid, romantic, vulnerable fool who trusts those who I should not trust, but I do and so here we are, once again, in the situation of my holding him, one more night, one last night, the night before he tells me the honest to goodness truth that he doesn’t wish to speak because he hopes I can perceive and the truth with which I simply do not or cannot hear or bear or conceive and so I do not and I continue to lie in this pose next to him believing in the lies and the poses that are so clearly there.

In this next instant I sigh once again. I can continue to hold him while he sleeps, I can press my fingers against him a little more, I can feel his body next to mine. For now. For tomorrow, it will be over. After he sleeps and then he awakes in the morning I will be awoken by him and his reality that he needs to speak and finally has found the courage to do so and he knows that this is for the best and we are better off seeing other people and this time was special but that there is going to be a better time and place for me because he knows that this is not right for whatever reason he has deemed it or feels it not to be right. And so I perceive that I will awake in the morning with the truth before me, the true feelings in his mind that he has never had the ability to speak before or that he did speak before but I just did not perceive correctly and so then in this next morning he will say the truth that I can hear and that he can say and then there will never be another night or morning like these and I will never see him again and I will never have his energy touching my energy and they will never fuse their energy together ever again and there will be this final pulse of energy that will then break, break, and then disappear as I leave or he leaves or we both leave and we go off to live our lives separately in a new world that is our individual world but not ours together because he has spoken his truth to me in the morning following the night that I held him while he slept.

He snores.

He has been snoring and continues to snore while I hold him while he sleeps. I see his lips slightly ajar with the sound of the snores coming in and out of his opened mouth.

I fear the morning’s reality, or perhaps the reality sooner if he should awake with his desire to tell me the truth that is clear to him but not to me.

I press my fingers against him and feel his energy again. What if all of these thoughts in my mind are just my thoughts and he does really want me to hold him, quietly, softly, tenderly, in the dark night, while he sleeps?

Our friend Murray, Chapter 3

Our friend Murray continued to bounce along the tall blades of grass until he came upon the end of the high grass and was now in front of a narrow stream of water. The final blades of the grass before the water were hanging lightly above it and he now found himself perched just above as well.

Our friend Murray looked in each direction.

To the right he could see the stream coming down through the forest on a slight decline in the land. The water quietly and simply rushed along the forest floor finding its way around and over and within and under the rocks and limbs and plants and dirt and such that was in its path.

To the left he could see the stream continuing on past him and his perch. It was continuing on doing the same as before, quietly and simply rushing along the forest floor finding its way around and over and within and under the rocks and limbs and plants and dirt and such that were anew in its path.

And looking forward across the stream, our friend Murray could see a small opening in the forest canopy where the trees were not directly overhead and there was a great warm sunlight upon the area.

Our friend Murray pondered.

“What are you thinking about Murray?”

“Oh, I am just pondering the nature that is before me. The natural state of the forest. The water goes where it goes, forward, regardless of what may be in front of it. It just flows and flows and flows continually. I find that fascinating.”

“I suppose it is. It is simply nature.”

“Yes, but nature is what nature does. Everything is simply natural. I wonder if the stream of water had a mind of its own whether it would choose to continue this natural state or consider other options.”

“What other options could there be?”

“Well, I suppose there may not be other options, but I can ponder that the water may decide it does not want to flow downhill and would rather flow uphill or perhaps pile itself up or who knows what else might be considered.”

“Interesting. I had not thought of that. But isn’t the fact that the water is challenged by gravity that it leaves it no choice but to flow downhill. Does the water not have to consider the rules of gravity?”

“Yes, of course, and that would truthfully cause it to follow the flow downhill, naturally. Yes, yes, of course.”

“It is always wise to consider all options.”

“Yes, I simply wonder if the water itself was able to think and consider its options what it would choose. But I can see that its options would be limited to the options given it by the natural world too.”

“So now what do you plan to do?”

“Oh, I am going to cross the stream of water so that I can get to that sunlit area beyond the other side.”

“And how will you do that?”

“I am thinking through my options on that matter as we speak. Logically, I cannot fly across, nor jump that far, as these are not in my nature. But I believe I have some other options which will find me safely to the other side.”

“Good luck Murray.”

And with that, our friend Murray bounded back along the blades where he had been perched above the stream and crawled down to the dirt floor. The dirt was soft and moist in this area, from the water in the stream, and he knew his feet were about to get very dirty in this mud.

He walked to the edge of the stream and looked to a rock that was in the midst of the flowing water. He considered if it was close enough for him to jump. He considered and he considered.

Oh, yes, our friend Murray considered it a great deal.

The option before him to jump to the rock in the midst of the stream had its possibile outcomes. One, he could safely alight on the rock and then make another jump to the other side of the stream. Two, he could miss the rock, thereby falling into the water. And if the water was a bit too swift, he could end up further down the stream than he had intended.

So our friend Murray pondered.

And then, without thinking another minute, our friend Murray jumped toward the rock in the midst of the stream. As he jumped he breathed in the cool wet forest air. He let the air out and landed right on the top of the rock in the midst of the stream. Our friend Murray was proud he had made it.

“Wow, good job Murray. You landed perfectly on the rock.”

“Thank you! It was not easy but I managed it. I am most definitely happy with that.”

“Now of course you must jump again to the other side. It seems a bit further away.”

“Egad, my yes, it does look further away now. Well, I would prefer not to go back and I believe that I can make it!”

“Good luck Murray.”

And with that our friend Murray jumped as hard and as high as he could manage. He suddenly noticed that he might not make it all the way.

“Oh, no!” our friend Murray exclaimed as he was narrowly missing the other side and ended up in the water.

“Are you ok, Murray?”

Our friend Murray could not talk as of now because he had fallen into the water and was being quickly rushed downstream by the current. He began to get all of his eight legs to work together to swim as best he could. He knew he was not the best swimmer in the forest, but he would do as he could as best as he could naturally.

But the water was a bit too swift for him and he was continually being drawn downstream. He was happy to simply keep his head above water enough to breathe!

Surely, there would be an end to this stream soon. Or at least another rock in the midst of the stream upon which he could climb. Surely something would save him from this dilemma soon.

Surely.

Yay!!! Robin Carnahan for Senate!