#sharonolds

Un lado de la autopista, colinas 

sin agua. 

El otro, a la distancia, los desechos de la marea, 

estuarios, bahía, garganta

del océano. No lo había puesto en 

palabras, todavía, sin embargoーlo peor,

pero pensaba que podía decirlo, si lo decía

palabra por palabra. Mi amigo manejaba

al nivel del mal, médanos, valle,

laderas, montañasー la pendiente, para los dos

de nuestros años más jóvenes. Había estado diciendo

que me importaba poco ahora, el dolor, 

lo que  me importabaーdigamos que existía

un diosーdel amorーy yo le había dadoー había

querido 

darleーmi vidaーy 

había fallado, bueno, podía solamente sufrir por esoー

pero y si yo, 

había lastimado,

al amor?  Aullé esto en voz alta

y en mis anteojos se formó un charco de agua salada, casi

dulce para mí, entonces, porque se había nombrado, 

lo peorーy una vez nombrado

supe que no había dios del amor, que había solo

personas. Y mi amigo acercó

a donde mis puños se apretaban entre sí

la palma de su mano y los frotó, un segundo, 

con torpeza, con lo amable

de ningún eros, la bondad casera.

I could not tell I had jumped off that bus, that bus in motion, with my child in my arms, because I did not know it. I believed my own story:   I had fallen, or the bus had started up when I had one foot in the air. I would not remember the tightening of my jaw,   the irk that I’d missed my stop, the step out   into the air, the clear child gazing about her in the air as I plunged to one knee on the street, scraped it, twisted it,   the bus skidding to a stop, the driver jumping out, my daughter laughing Do it again. I have never done it   again, I have been very careful. I have kept an eye on that nice young mother who lightly leapt off the moving vehicle onto the stopped street, her life in her hands, her life’s life in her hands.

@newyorker #sharonolds #icannotsayididnot sh e describes abstract that we are born.  existentialism without meaning. but while she lived, s he figuredout that love gives the existence meaning -inbetweenthelines exclusively love only,  an d with love she asks for life hmmmm decoding abstract thought  idebaded inmy mid20s with prof woman about meta commu nication acoupleof hours

@newyorker #sharonolds #icannotsayididnot

she describes abstract that we are born. existentialism without meaning. but while she lived, she figuredout that love gives the existence meaning -inbetweenthelines exclusively love only, and with love she asks for life

hmmmm

decoding abstract thought idebaded inmy mid20s with prof woman about meta communication acoupleof hours

somany pointless years…

From the super lows come...a feeling of serviceable normalcy.

Hell, I actually feel pretty good today. My tactic is to be busy as a hell and don’t allow any time for reflection. (Isn’t THIS a form of reflection?) I got up early and watched some of a movie. Two cups of coffee.

I began to think about how busy the second half of today is going to be so I walked down to the coffee shop. Three more cups of coffee, and I read some poetry by Sharon Olds and read a little more of I’m Thinking of Ending Things, and am quickly, deeply invested in it. (I started reading it after I read that Charlie Kaufman is directing a film version. I am a little proud of myself for reading and liking a novel that made a buncha’ fuckin’ lists...)

As I left the coffee shop, a pretty young woman walked up to me and said “You look very nice today.”

I was caught a little off-guard by the compliment. I managed something near a smile and a “thank you”, and saw the older lady she was with flash a half-smile, likely a little embarrassed by her companion’s kindness. That seems a funny thing but even I almost expected the statement to be followed by a pitch of some sort. Or something about Jesus.

I began the walk back and, about a quarter pf a mile away, had a vehicle pass me and turn into a lot. It had a Pennsylvania plate. And it was the two ladies from the coffee shop. Ha.

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