This Time Back Then
“If you shut your eyes and are a lucky one, you may see at times a shapeless pool of lovely pale colours suspended in the darkness; then if you squeeze your eyes tighter, the pool begins to take shape, and the colours become so vivid that with another squeeze they must go on fire. But just before they go on fire you see the lagoon. This is the nearest you ever get to it on the mainland, just one heavenly moment; if there could be two moments you might see the surf and hear the mermaids singing.”
I remember those rooftops that scaled the morning side into nights spent with you—where we had yet to spill our secrets & I hadn't yet gotten so goddamned impatient. It was surprising how much the sky changed through the hours—how swiftly the clouds changed shape & how far away all these things felt. It was in all those evenings, where we would so gladly get lost, because I got lost so often. I couldn’t explain it then—making lefts & rights confusing, even on sober nights.
Last springtime, things were brighter & we put bookmarks in familiar places. I think you & I moved to the margins like the annotations left in old stories. The spaces were filled with late nights & hard alcohol, where we spilled misspoken scribbles and thoughtless mumbles. Back then we sat in cafes and cars, writing down the things we so desperately tried to say. It was nice, to feel that way. But it’s good to let things go, because sometimes thats just the way things need to be, at least for now.
I was very curious about exactly how things were. Thoughts lost in syncopaed empty rhythm.