Friday, February 26, 2010


...We indeed
looked out for others as though they mattered, and they,
catching the spirit, came home with us, spent the night
in an alcove from which their breathing could be heard clearly.

John Ashbery, "The Alcove" (excerpt), Planisphere

Thank you. I treasured that evening.
I treasure the memory of that evening.


I too seem to have had a transformational effect. I have to
really come to terms with how really low he sank. It's hard to
believe - so not what I experienced with him, but there it is.
It's okay. I'm a grown woman. I love him. We've both been
through the crucibles. His mother saw the storm coming, though.
I remember her once remarking to me, in an oddly blithe tone,
considering her words & their import, that he would turn
out to be like her own father (Rhodes Scholar) - alcoholic.
I was very confused by that - big disconnect -
and obviously I was no stranger to familial alcoholism -
but I guess at that time - well, I don't know what to say.
It wasn't that I was just dwelling on the surfaces --
I think it is that he & I did connect on such a profound
direct level --
I didn't see his other sides. He kept that hidden.
Again, though, I don't blame him. How frightening.
He wasn't in control.
I love him so very much.

song on KZE as I hit send... they pushed you into the sun...


No comments:

Post a Comment