(no subject)
The snow danced around her head but didn’t settle. It just kept drifting and drifting…
“I know what you want,” she smiled at me. “I know what you want. I know what you want.” She kept repeating it over and over and the snow kept drifting and drifting and the same people kept walking by, no one was new anymore, nothing surprised me and she kept smiling and nothing was flawed.
“I know what you want,” she started to sigh it, as if she was waiting for me to ask because saying it put her in pain but she was under a curse of repeating, and repeating, and repeating, and repeating. “I know what you want! I know what you want!” She was close enough I could kiss her, I could kiss those bloody lips full of five word sentences and I could grab her by the hips and put a hand over her mouth and shut her up. I was close enough to take a pillow and muffle her until she would say “I ow hut voo int” and then she would shake and struggle and the snow would finally fall and cover her and no one would ask questions. No one would know because she didn’t exist. This snow didn’t exist. Did I exist? I tried to ask her but nothing came out. I started speaking in Arabic. I started speaking French. Anything I tried to say was misunderstood and I kept going in circles. It got so bad that I started to sweat - I was sweating in the below freezing weather and the snow still wouldn’t fall. It wasn’t coming and it wasn’t going. I had to say it, I had to give in. “What do I want then! What do I want?!”
She changed her smile by one degree, and blinked her eyes for the first time, causing a pile of snow that had built up on her eyelashes to fall into my hand. “Well that’s just it now isn’t it,” and that mystery of a woman just gave me that same year old flawless smile and disappeared again. None of it was new. I hated every familiar inch of it.
I woke up and sighed. I could feel the stick between my sheets. I grudgingly tore off the top layer and threw it on the floor. It can be washed later. It was still only 6 and today was my day off. I threw a good amount of angry words into the still air of my apartment until I felt better and then somewhere between then and when I woke up again, I fell back asleep.
Tuesdays were my day off. At least, that was what I told myself when I put on two extra shirts and a hat and boots I only wore for shows and bad weather. And that was what I told myself when I stuck change into my guitar case to get people going. And that was what I told myself for the next 5 hours, playing guitar and singing ridiculous holiday songs and smiling at tourists and little kids when they played in a quarter, and playing a special song dedicated to each person who gave me bills. I also told myself that I was a sellout, a lousy sellout and that I would’ve beaten myself up had I run into my pathetic state a few years ago. And I told myself that today would be the last, that I would cash in the rest of the change to buy and amp and hook up my rusty electric and stop fooling myself. This is what I did every Tuesday on my day off.
“I know what you want,” she smiled at me. “I know what you want. I know what you want.” She kept repeating it over and over and the snow kept drifting and drifting and the same people kept walking by, no one was new anymore, nothing surprised me and she kept smiling and nothing was flawed.
“I know what you want,” she started to sigh it, as if she was waiting for me to ask because saying it put her in pain but she was under a curse of repeating, and repeating, and repeating, and repeating. “I know what you want! I know what you want!” She was close enough I could kiss her, I could kiss those bloody lips full of five word sentences and I could grab her by the hips and put a hand over her mouth and shut her up. I was close enough to take a pillow and muffle her until she would say “I ow hut voo int” and then she would shake and struggle and the snow would finally fall and cover her and no one would ask questions. No one would know because she didn’t exist. This snow didn’t exist. Did I exist? I tried to ask her but nothing came out. I started speaking in Arabic. I started speaking French. Anything I tried to say was misunderstood and I kept going in circles. It got so bad that I started to sweat - I was sweating in the below freezing weather and the snow still wouldn’t fall. It wasn’t coming and it wasn’t going. I had to say it, I had to give in. “What do I want then! What do I want?!”
She changed her smile by one degree, and blinked her eyes for the first time, causing a pile of snow that had built up on her eyelashes to fall into my hand. “Well that’s just it now isn’t it,” and that mystery of a woman just gave me that same year old flawless smile and disappeared again. None of it was new. I hated every familiar inch of it.
I woke up and sighed. I could feel the stick between my sheets. I grudgingly tore off the top layer and threw it on the floor. It can be washed later. It was still only 6 and today was my day off. I threw a good amount of angry words into the still air of my apartment until I felt better and then somewhere between then and when I woke up again, I fell back asleep.
Tuesdays were my day off. At least, that was what I told myself when I put on two extra shirts and a hat and boots I only wore for shows and bad weather. And that was what I told myself when I stuck change into my guitar case to get people going. And that was what I told myself for the next 5 hours, playing guitar and singing ridiculous holiday songs and smiling at tourists and little kids when they played in a quarter, and playing a special song dedicated to each person who gave me bills. I also told myself that I was a sellout, a lousy sellout and that I would’ve beaten myself up had I run into my pathetic state a few years ago. And I told myself that today would be the last, that I would cash in the rest of the change to buy and amp and hook up my rusty electric and stop fooling myself. This is what I did every Tuesday on my day off.