nickelarcade's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 39 Ode Earlier this week I may have killed someone. That is, I may have caused their death. It was one of those if a train leaves a station at 9:13 am going east at 50miles per hour, then a butterfly flaps its wings in Dubai. It’s not a non-stop flight wouldn’t you know it? Or notice, I’m slipping my shoe off under the table and rubbing my bare foot on the carpet between us. The bottom of my foot itches, my sister used to say it was because I was dirty. That is, I had some kind of fungus or disease or something. I didn’t. I’m facing backwards on the morning train This morning I woke up and thought about you sleeping. I thought of you in the ground. I thought about the ash falling on my jacket on the corner of Montgomery and Market. I thought about what you would look like today of all days. Happy Birthday, I thought. I thought about drinking coffee remembering you preferred hot chocolate and dress up day and a sideways smile. Pulling away from the city and back into myself, listening for the chords on a new song I might learn, if I could ever manage an F chord or a pull-off. How many things have I left unsaid, and how many ramblings have I pushed away? My dad says anxiety runs in our family and I think it has to do with the fact that we can’t reconcile our actions with our ideals. That we have ambition without courage. All of our crooked teeth in row. 2:34 a.m. - 2009-02-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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