I tried to get in to work today. I honestly intended to spend my hours in the cold AC, staring out at the damp city trains swishing by on thier magnetic tracks. I left hours before I was to meet Aiden, Nicole, and the Boy. Little did I know. I ran into Jaques at 1st, which led into Paul, then George, then Sophie & Lief, then Neriad, then continue until the trip becomes two hours from one end of the Drive to the other.
Now, after my day out, I feel I must have used up some sort of quota. No one on the way home, though Gavool on the puter for perfectly when I return. We’ve been talking the past few hours. Lyrical and cutting, I’m holding a fistful of aces. I win.
Jaques and I had some equally amusing things to talk about. We ended our conversation with self-referential gossip. “The Jessies were the day after, and I have to admit, I felt a bit guilty” “I wrote weeks ago that I couldn’t imagine what his reaction would be to.. yeah” Everything sounding worse than it is, because we’re Dancing smoothly. It’s a giggle, and a special secret. A case of my hands and feet being caught between my tongue and teeth.
These are the precious things. This personal definition of intimacy. I could tell you and you wouldn’t click into the moment, because you weren’t there. I could describe every action, every word, the colour of the cracked paint on the wall behind, and you wouldn’t understand the joke. Because it’s ours. I want to open them. Crack them like eggs to let the violently coloured doves fly out over the crowd like a religious festival in Italy. Sparks on the wire, let everything be seen.