foreshadow
When Julian Po stepped on my foot, it didn't hurt
as much as let me know he was there. Sort of like a handshake
without the exchange of sweaty germs and eye contact.
I remember the trembling puddle he had just invaded. The smudge of dirt
he had left on my big toe. The glass of water that lost its surface
tension when he shook the cafe table.
Twilight arrived and ushered out the white hot sun and escorted in the pitch
found on the ocean floor. I shook the day off, grading the sun
like a block of cheese onto my salad.
Twilight also woke up shadows. Tugged at their arms to lure
them into the foreground, where they will be framed as normal.
Julian's shadow kept talking long after he did. I thought it needed re-dubbing.
I sensed the whole city was fluent in French and here I was frantically thumbing
through a Larousse, my pace unsuitable for conversation.
The shadow was more fluent than me. I almost named it Jacques.
I tried to find its eyes to make contact, to stare
it down and show my dominance.
I grew angry and threw an elitist vocabulary at it like I would a pile
of sticks at a raging fire. Like they taught me in grad school.
When my lips began to chap from so much yelling, I felt my shoulders sink
back into my shirt. This was not a battle I would win. I told myself to let it slide.
Maybe Jacques had a bad day. Let him win.
I almost didn't forgive myself as I kicked the shadow
just as Julian's mouth came back focus.
"Would you like to come to dinner?"
"Yes," I said.
Stunned to see I could speak French, after all.
as much as let me know he was there. Sort of like a handshake
without the exchange of sweaty germs and eye contact.
I remember the trembling puddle he had just invaded. The smudge of dirt
he had left on my big toe. The glass of water that lost its surface
tension when he shook the cafe table.
Twilight arrived and ushered out the white hot sun and escorted in the pitch
found on the ocean floor. I shook the day off, grading the sun
like a block of cheese onto my salad.
Twilight also woke up shadows. Tugged at their arms to lure
them into the foreground, where they will be framed as normal.
Julian's shadow kept talking long after he did. I thought it needed re-dubbing.
I sensed the whole city was fluent in French and here I was frantically thumbing
through a Larousse, my pace unsuitable for conversation.
The shadow was more fluent than me. I almost named it Jacques.
I tried to find its eyes to make contact, to stare
it down and show my dominance.
I grew angry and threw an elitist vocabulary at it like I would a pile
of sticks at a raging fire. Like they taught me in grad school.
When my lips began to chap from so much yelling, I felt my shoulders sink
back into my shirt. This was not a battle I would win. I told myself to let it slide.
Maybe Jacques had a bad day. Let him win.
I almost didn't forgive myself as I kicked the shadow
just as Julian's mouth came back focus.
"Would you like to come to dinner?"
"Yes," I said.
Stunned to see I could speak French, after all.