coffee shop rationality
There is something that is ignited in me - in these overwarmed, overcaffeinated coffee shops. A man playing an acoustic guitar and yet another psychology text book leaning against my calf, my pulse quickens and I want to dance. I want to hear music so loud that the pain travels from my eardrum to my fingertips, resulting in something resembling a rhythm. I want to drive my car, fast, across freeways that tangle into each other... every exit an option of sorts, a chance to see new places, to meet new people.
In my fantasies sometimes you are in the seat next to me. I wonder if you would ever want to ride. In my mind, I think of you, underneath the same room as me, watching me dance. I wonder if you would be able to understand. There is a section of my brain that stores all the facts that I've been forced to memorize... and all of the reasons why you and I could never work. Painfully, the same piece of you thrust it upon me, held down my childish wants and my adult needs and forced me to see what was true: that there are paths that you and I will never travel down. Still, my fingertips have memorized the outlines of your body, my mouth remembers the way you taste, and I have felt safe in your arms. Safe, too many times for me to dismiss it all as impractical, irrational, immature. With you, I feel so full it hurts. I do know that we could never, really, be together. But still I ....
In my fantasies sometimes you are in the seat next to me. I wonder if you would ever want to ride. In my mind, I think of you, underneath the same room as me, watching me dance. I wonder if you would be able to understand. There is a section of my brain that stores all the facts that I've been forced to memorize... and all of the reasons why you and I could never work. Painfully, the same piece of you thrust it upon me, held down my childish wants and my adult needs and forced me to see what was true: that there are paths that you and I will never travel down. Still, my fingertips have memorized the outlines of your body, my mouth remembers the way you taste, and I have felt safe in your arms. Safe, too many times for me to dismiss it all as impractical, irrational, immature. With you, I feel so full it hurts. I do know that we could never, really, be together. But still I ....