nightwalker: a prose poem
and we scratch our heads to the rhythm of neuroses, i try to rub the sweat out of your face, and it keeps coming back, and you, say that you can no longer feel anything and i, believe you.
every summer, you bring me a sunflower and try to snap the stem and stick it into the folds of the bobby pin of my hair and i, tell you it won’t fit, but you never stop trying to make me glow brighter than drug induced stars like the sun shining through eucalyptus trees creating a roof over our trampoline big enough for elephant kings. but you also say that, we should stop with the drugs, that they have stained our souls the color of cobalt bruises, and have left scars in the little hidden corners of our bodies – nobody is allowed in anymore.
and your neuroses has eventually gotten the best of you, and you started organizing my dirty clothes – a sock pile near the fan, a pile of my sexy, cute, and bloody underwear near the entrance to the bathroom, and a pile of my sweaty bras under the bed, and you think i don’t know they’re there – but i can feel you rustle with them in your fingers at night, practicing hooking and unhooking them like you will somehow get better at it – and sometimes, i can feel your thumbs rub the sides of my hips at night, and i think it’s because the body confuses you, and, you can, never figure out how i used my hips right, like – fiery blue purple gold clinking coins of belly dancing dazzling swings near your chest as you got on your knees and prayed to gods of war to have mercy on your weakness, my body, weakens you like cough syrup to baby boomer children crying for more, i can see you back there, crying.
but most days, we do drugs – the differences in our choices the decisions between night walking and skipping, and you always chose to bathe in the sun like a cat, but, i walk along the tracks of parallel railways, picking the petals off the sunflowers wondering where life is going to take me someday, because this can’t be everything i am supposed to see – and you always tell me, that it’s going to be okay, but i never believe you, and i suppose you never just found the words to say it right.
and one day, i had a child. and i gave her a name, an acronym for the hindu gods i found online, because i wanted her to have some idea of religion i could never understand, and, i played her music from my generation and i danced and swung my hips to the sound of the record player pushing music up against the walls, and she looked at me, with thin almond eyes the color of sunflower seeds- and i sat at night and prayed to you that our daughter would grow up to be nothing like us, and you asked why, and i didn’t know what to say exactly, so i just said that it was because everything we have is not enough, not even for us. but you didn’t understand, and you said the wrong thing, so i went back to the drugs
and the next summer you picked me a sunflower and it fell out of my hair, and you put a daisy in our daughters sleeping grip, you hid all the dirty clothes piles under the bed and put the crib near the fan instead, and you stopped with the drugs but I never did, and our daughter grew up to hate us, then love us, then found a way to blame us, and now we don’t really, talk anymore, and i miss her, but that’s the way children are sometimes, and I think out of the entirety of life i lived, i never once found the right way to say that i loved somebody, at least not coherently. and i think, out of the entirety of life i lived, i never found myself somebody to want to die for-type love, and, i think in the entirety of life i lived, i died many many times, reborn each time a little bit sadder, and i think that’s maybe why i am the sad sack i am. but, you never saw me like that – no, you always told me to glow brighter than the brightest thing and even if i couldn’t it wouldn’t matter because i would always be that in your eyes, and you picked me a million sunflowers over the years and i took the seeds and planted millions more, on the roof – and you never stopped finding the right words to say how you loved me, and every time you said it differently so it sounded new to me and i could fall in love again and again and you never ever stopped, creating dictionaries of words all meaning ‘i love you’ so you could never run out, and at the top of the list of the most beautiful words you ever said to me – sunflower, children, goddesses, and sunbathing – breathtaking you, breathtaking boy.