Tuesday 1/02/2007 11:08:00 PM

There are parts of the moment that get lost in memory. Integers in turmoil. Decimal places that stretch further than willingness. All these years. The formula that yields this present. Like pi it cannot be fully calculated.

My hand was jogging in place over the lines in the paper. Grunting as it curled the heavy barbells of the empty spaces. So many years lifting those weights. And never. Ever. Getting any stronger.

I could hear them breathing all the way downstairs. The profound senses of the lonely gloating again. Embellishing every whisper with the tick of a clock counting toward nowhere. And I would reason with my two halves. The woman and the girl. The white and the yolk. Fretting obsequiously. Panicking silently over the stability of my shell.

RuKsaK said...

I can't even begin to pretend that this is like - the state between deciding whether you are a woman or a girl. What do know is that this gave me a painful inkling. I'd like to imagine it's similar to deciding whether I'm a man or a boy, but since having the abilty to select is actually fortutitous and (one of my least favourite words) 'fun' then I think it is radically different.

Of course now, you've rendered me incapable of coherence.

i said...

jeeze, that's not at all what i got from it :(

home is where the heart is... but where is that, if I only knew.

alcoholic poet said...

i like both your interpretations. that's one of the really interesting things about writing publically; finding out how other people translate my thoughts.

but this post is actually a series of thoughts. the woman/girl paradox being one of them. happiness: action or consequence amongst the others.

home is where the heart is... i guess, since my heart is in my head and that is definitely my home.

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