Kinky Friedman, a songwriter, once said “Find what you love and let it kill you,” but the world attributed it not to him but to Charles Bukwoski and ever since then…generations have come to believe those nine words as gold from Bukwoski.
You say I come undone when the world sleeps,
You do not believe what I say but rather, you’ll wait to read what I post on my blog and sometimes, mull over it for days before you finally ask me about it.
I write, you read in between the lines.
Oh, you sweet pain…you are like a hot shower in summer,
Like being stopped by a traffic policeman the day you changed purses and your license is in the other brown bag in your room.
It’s like the persistent facebook message from that guy who is constantly saying “hi” or “hello” for a whole month.
So, I sit back and let you soak in the sun of your enlightenment.
You look at me and smile and then you ask “who is he?”
We both know that you are right, but suddenly the beating of my heart wants my mouth to stay shut, but the fluttering on my stomach won’t allow the butterflies to stay still. I sip my juice, look at the lake, swing my right leg, anything but look at you.
“He must be something.”
I want to speak but my words fail me and so you cover my hand with yours. “I would be the happiest man alive if you finally said ‘yes’ but I do not want your pity. If you choose me, I want it to be because you really want to…and maybe some day we can laugh about this and tell our kids how long it took us…”
“Hey…can you see that ferry over there?” I ask.
“You would make a great Mom. You love to read, write…and I see how you are with babies, remember the time when my niece couldn’t stop crying and you walked up and held her and just like that, that siren became silent. My sister could have married you that day.”
“The ferry is coming back this way…it’s almost six.”
You nod and then drink up what’s left of my juice. It’s the one thing I cannot resist about you. How well you know what to finish up and what to leave unto me.
“I hope he lets you be.” You say and pull me into another one of those hugs that remind me of the little things I miss about home. As we walk towards the docking station, your grip tightens and I let you…because for once I am smitten, and he’s unaware of my infatuation or should I call it interest, but this little spark cannot dim until I know where I stand with him.
If he’s not then this little spark of mine will dim and maybe, just maybe I’ll finally find the courage to let you see, what it is about you that scares me so much I’d rather run into you than away from you.
So, if Kinky Friedman is right, then maybe…just like my way with words, we’ll finally find our way to each other.