I saw a woman who looked like your mother. It made me think of you. She looked like your mother, oh, maybe in 20 years. You love your mother, and I saw why. Your mother is whole and kind, though she was sick that week. I saw her make your blanket - I watched her piece together the pieces of bright colored yarn on her sickbed. You had problems with your father, and I can understand, though I didn't see that as easily.
I will be so jealous of any man who ever loves you. And oh, they will, because you're spectacular. We know they will, we are just impatient (I understand, I sympathize). You have too much in you for just one. You have too much for the ones you've known. They'd better check with me, but I know they won't, and you won't need them to.
You kissed me once on my forehead, and your father and mother too, as you left the house (that bright house with the porch, walls with color! Walls with masks!). I wish I had that - that spontaneous showering of affection. I wish I could do that. I wish I could do what you do.
How could you hate that city? It's spoiled me, you say, but I could love it.
You won't ever do stupid things. You won't waste your time on awful books, or be with men who hurt you, or do things you don't want to do. I wonder if you know embarrassment. I don't think you do. I wonder if you know regret.
I want you, but then, I want most of my friends. I feel a blurring of my heart and my insides, I want to fall in love with my friends and I want them (all) to fall in lust and love with me. I can't separate out my friend love and my lust, I can only restrain how I act on them. You want a man, it's true, and I know this (and I want a man too!).
But but but! I stutter. I want to live with you. I want to be with you. I want to sleep in your bed. I want to go to the theatre with you. I want to kiss you on the forehead when I leave, when I bundle up and head out into the world. I want to play music for you, this time (It's my turn). I want to feed you fruit at my table. I want to take bread from yours.
You said, mournfully (I could tell) that you are sad about how you never will be able to live with all the people you love. I know this is true, mournfully, right now.
2002-11-26, Desire song
before / after
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