This city blows an enervating breeze. I am neither cold nor hot. I want to breath, but not this air. I want to walk, but not these impersonal streets; not with my detached neighbour who cannot tell my moods. I want to lie, but not by myself; not in this massive mess that is my room.
Our connections made in that small rectangular room, cross through capitals, and blow you as you stand. You need your feet to think, all is spinning around you. But you laugh, sweetly. Still you laugh, and I close my eyes and imagine that NYC apartment or maybe you in front of your dance class, holding the phone, waving at your fellow dancers who pass by, saying to me, I miss you.
I too, want you to stand. But I cannot stop the world from spinning around you. I am spinning too; everything is blurry, everything but you in front of me- the smile, the long brown locks, the bridge of your nose... And as you wonder how fast is too fast, or if we will crash, I think only, thank goodness my nose is not as long and pointed as yours, for then it would be hard to kiss you. I am silly I know- I am worried about dust on my shoes in a time of war.
I will put you down, so you can catch your breath, so we both can. I will be here while you find your feet. And if when you stand you are still dizzy, I will carry you home. I will not ask for another dance, for whether we dance again or just sit and watch the stars, I will be happy just being under the same sky as you.
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You fit vex, bet abeg no curse me. You hear?