jolie laide

jolie laide

I started this when I lived in Brooklyn and struggled for grace in a city that grants moments of beauty and ugliness breathtakingly close to one another. Now I live in a place where things are a different kind of ugly and the beauty is pedestrian. I struggle with that.


Dmitri is smoking on the roof again. Today the sky is low, a flat monotone of white. At the edge of the roof, silhouetted in his dark pea coat, he looks terribly romantic, like something from a French new wave film. Later, I bring something to his office, a press release from Sotheby’s. He does not get up from his desk, and as we speak I look down into one of his pale blue eyes, over the dramatic cracked body of his nose, and into the other blue eye.

On the train today was a line of women each tender and separate, this one with a spray of freckles, this one with earnest straight hair, a pair of clogs and a battered stoop sale pre-release edition of Jonathan Safran Foer. And that one, falling asleep, head bobbing against the train window, the tension delicately cording her lovely neck. She is wearing a dorky Nordic patterned cardigan, her hair is cropped short with a sparkly barrette trying to re-capture some femininity. Her blunt fingers are pushed into the book on her lap, trying to hold her place. Seven Things That Happy Couples Do.

I am trying to dig you out of my chest but I never knew how you entered in the first place and all I have is this spoon made of silk.


Blogger slickaphonic said...

That last sentence is a keeper.

6:05 PM  
Blogger Dr. S said...

Yes, silk-spoon lovely.

7:36 PM  
Blogger ttractor said...

thank you! that has been looking for a place to land for months. the silk spoon--something beautiful and wholly ineffectual.

7:34 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Your use of language makes an enjoyable read. Thanks.

11:06 AM  
Blogger ttractor said...

thank you an only mouse. It is so nice to know you are here, nibbling at corners.

12:37 PM  
Anonymous famjaztique said...

I'm still here too. Just not writing.

6:08 PM  

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