It is a crowded train and there are many people between us, but I see him from the eyes up, so beautifully blue and with such an elegant curve to his eyelid, a lyrical browbone.
The train goes deep underground. I am standing by the door and the seal is imperfect and there is wind flowing over my hand, the dark air from this tunnel.
I had a vision of my body with a vertical slot in it, positioned over my rib cage. A photograph would slide out of it, easily, but the last few inches needed to be tugged, painful.
He lit me up like a birthday cake, nine candles, one to grow on, pink icing rosebuds, even. He left without blowing me out and I am still burning.
posted by ttractor @ 9:50 AM
5 Comments:
Light it up, girlfriend. You shine so brightly.
you gave me such a big smile! thank you!
you certainly are lit - from your scraped elbow, to your slotted ribcage
collarbone to hipbone
here's gazing at you
remue, I want to hear more about your childhood home.
these days it feels like I am lit up all the time, and while it is thrilling, I am also more than a bit tired. The relentless restlessness can take its toll.
amen.
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