Relief is reached only for a few seconds between wake and sleep. I’m an animal before the day’s onslaught. The unendurable melancholy of meaning and the brief reprieve of silence. The necessity of water and a dark, bitter blend to start the clock.
The clock, with its predatory tentacles that screw themselves surreptitiously into the gelatinous shadows of my small, spongy body.
The trouble was I couldn’t promise to hold it all forever. Even if I had done so, accidentally, and for that mistake I could not forgive myself.
But the fact is, I had met myself along a road composed of stolen moments between dishes and devotions, a road away from all the having and holding and losing and winning. And beaten as it was, my heart suddenly knew the calm of a desire too high to stoop to satisfaction. The rousing precipice of wheels and horizon and wide open sky.
But it takes courage to pull out into the intersections of this town, especially on the perimeter hills, with the awareness of what they once were: garrisons and lookout points to protect those who reside on the inside. And with the awareness of the records, written and unwritten, the cruelty camouflaged in every street name.
Turns out a cigarette smoked in the comfort of your car on a sunny morning will not light your way to liberation. It will not light your way any more than a burning building or a bra or a bridge with a placard and a rhyming couplet yelled on a loudspeaker, though there’s always possibility and a promise.
I take strange comfort in the illusion of a suspended moment where time and space are apprehended and changed somehow so that there are no exits or entries, no need to run to the store, to the post office, to the laundromat, to the court, to drive a powder blue car into an expanse of sky.
It seems to me to be the truest thing. Because I cannot connect the totality of the space and objects around me, because I’m simply here, with my body ambivalently breathing the whole time.
How much time passes anyway, amounting to nothing? Or if you believe the opposite, that time amounts to something grand, then how in the world would you wrench it into something that contains all that makes up a life, a year, a day?