The love incarnate, my adonis, the darling child of fire and paint, he is talking of quitting his job to come see me sooner. End of September rather than November. Weeks difference, days, hours. I can taste how he’s counting. Centuries. If it’s been too long, we will be strangers again. I suspect I will have to remember the heat again. Last time it took me three days of pure company to find him pretty, but when it came, it conquered. Take this flicker of light moving in a line from one side to the other. Sitting on the train, I could feel how. Transformation in breath. The head and heart paid attention for once and agreed. When I met him for the first time again, I was brash. Brazen I conquered and forced myself to force him. Touch this man I don’t know, tell his hands they can hold mine. I drank the moments and we walk together better now that I’m older. His hip fits into mine as my steps fall into his. Hills, not so much. Hills I will demolish in my perfect future. Slopes will be ignored and I’ll learn too to run again. I’m glad I was off the cane by the time he met me. No pity darling, I could find a wild boar to finish you properly, though I am no Aphrodite. As Psyche, I will kill you in your sleep and mutilate the corpse with fucking.
I don’t know how long he’ll be able to stay this visit. More than a week, I’m hoping. Grant me time enough, time enough to recognise him on the street, time enough to make him real. If it weren’t for the studio, he would stay. I don’t know how many times I can say goodbye in a year without snapping. Twist the wire this way, twist the wire that way. Bind my wrists until fingers turn blue, but it will break. He won’t make it here in time for Fringe, which I suppose is a good thing. Certain aspects of the theatre community will be far too interesting this year to bear him perhaps. I plan on striding through if I can, knocking the feet from those who are expecting me to be as small as I was. Alone it will be easier. Slash and burn. I worry a little for Bill, but I don’t know his involvement this year. There must be some. I know he will come to Jacques’ show and maybe one of John Murphy’s. I don’t know what Tom Jones is up to nor Johnathan Ryder. I’m sure the Shameless Hussies will have something up, but I know not if he would go. If I were more certain of what people have been told about me, I would hit up David Garfinkle, but, well, I don’t have tha vaguest idea. I’m cut out of the loop. The noose was let go for a sad faulty knot. If anyone knows – I would appreciate the heads up. This is no guillotine.
