Saturday, April 23, 2016

I love you

I love you.
I'm trying to tell you this in my mind but you're all the way across the cafeteria with your friends in a changing group of people who laugh at anything, laughing louder than all us other lonely tables with nothing to say but what game or what song or what movie or what book or what girl or what car or what guy or what house or what future or what past is what will for that moment keep us from admitting that we're scared about something that we don't understand in anything. laughter makes it all go away and it makes it seem much easier so I completely understand and only sometimes hold it against you that you laugh away the time I see you or hear you but that's beside the point

The point is I love you and I cannot say a damned thing about it because every time I fall in love with something or someone it destroys me as soon as I realize that nothing will ever love me back the way I need the way I most want the way that takes whatever this is inside me that cannot stop thinking about you or them or it or all of the things and ways we see and live and dance and die in this world and this life and we cannot do anything but enjoy it and yet no one will ever live in this dance with me Inside. I'm sorry if this offends you.

but you are not the cafeteria and you are not across it and now you are here at the table and sitting there and telling me about him and what he did and how he made you feel and yet I just wonder if it's worth it, worth what he's doing, worth what he's doing to you by treating you like shit and worse than what you deserve, and it just breaks my heart that you turn me on and inside me, there not just in the spot, my one only spot for admitting my sexual desire for you, but elsewhere in places far older than penises and vaginas fucking and orgasms music and romance and people struggling to dance the night onsetting as shadows lengthen; it's all just so damned frustrating that I want to love you through the thick fog of my mind's nighttime eating my sunlight away. the cafeteria is just like a reversal of the cave since as I got older and the women I sat with got darker and darker the lights themselves in my memory just keep dimming, elementary school the brightest but college was darkest of all in Sixth Street, the colors just keep getting more vibrant in my mind as the lights go out eventually forever

why you don't see me across the table from you doesn't make sense, since all of you will say at some point that you do see me and you let me know in language more than words that you see me and maybe do nothing but see me since some of you obsess so much over every detail taken in wide within dark abyssal eyes, but you're not doing that now you're sitting with dark hair or blond hair or white teeth or crooked teeth or moles or zits or sallow cheeks or drooping ears or upturned nose or apelike nostrils or stubbly fat fingers or thin dextrous pliers or flat dreams of breasts or heaving fleshslides of swollen and scarred dugs. young and old, middle of their lives or just beginning to see, just beginning to see, just beginning. All of you are always just beginning to see something. then you have enough and move on

you are still sitting there and telling me one story after another but what I want is to tell you that I love you and I see you and I want to see all the way into the deep of you with my entire body wrapped inside yours

—I am sitting here watching a boy, I think, a man, maybe, but a bird a blue jay a large monstrous beast who visits the feeder, the buffet, the cafeteria I provide using Colleen's money, my little Darkunny. Swoopflight landing and alienhead turning, feathered machines like controlled hydraulics accelerate and decelerate in smooth curvilinear designs towards the nut or shell or peanutshell and sifts the large ones and collects the right dry fruit between sharp utilitarian mandibles, chelicerae of your own, naturemade for holding and touching and turning over and then striking sharply, a piercing of the veil for the dark dreaming dry fruits and fats, your beak, his beak, his and yours, hardened manipulating lips for breaking through hard shells to get at nature's temptations, tempting all of us who eat the flesh of Living Thing. I love you, for as long as you sat there and took off with the peanut in its shell, hisher shell, sat at my cafeteria table, the feeder and the buffet, the table where I'm host and where She sits with me but you are not With Me but then

you start arguing with the other jays and the party's over and the wings open and the bounce-hop-leap into the air you can climb with those wings you were born with to get away from all the yelling and the greed and the fighting and the food just waiting, steaming, turned over and over by large fat aproned black and white and brown women wielding metallic spoons, the women who ensure all of us get our menu-mandated-by-men-who-regulated meals of indistinguishable nutrients and natural food coloring but they hate us for it since they wanted to grow up to be princesses or detectives or loved by men who

—bounce and hop inches forward in half-seconds she is beautiful, more beautiful than the puffed fat man. Her chest is grey and pocked and not smooth and her head turns paranoid. so thin from the struggle not from vanity. slender enough to fly through the air but here she's able to eat at the table for now, just long enough to make hunger a later reminder and now she's watching me and watching her food with both eyes she can turn to watch me with her left eye she sees me and her right eye sees food. she doesn't trust me any more than I trust governments but her wings aren't even, scarred, she's a fighter but picked on, hungry but alone, avoiding one of him, them, he whose feathers smoothly transition from white to grey to downy fur feathers and black necklace, a collar that wraps up and over to his amazing head. Large and dominant and athletic grace with no paranoia, seeing only what he needs to see to take and eat it and ignore all the rest of the insignificant things wanting to eat him or waiting in their vegetable undeath to finally leave this seed. Where did she go, in hiding?

the other boy is watching the older boy who's eating and they sit there like a family of strangers with their own rituals of laughter and screaming and doubts and challenges and hear-I-ams and thats-not-yours. the shy one just flew off without even getting a meal. he's white at his bellymost close to the legs but the grey never loses its lightness as it fades into the darkness of his collar. he watched the older boy eat and watched long enough after the older boy left to think about something, but then he just took off flying and whimpering away short tiny bursts of soft notes and they're gone

and now I'm about to get up and take my thick and long fingers only really good for keyboards and engaged massages and turn over some seeds into the feeder to watch these things so much younger than me fight and feed but warily watch me as I cry long syrups, strings of nasal mucal tears precipitously clinging to my top lip, crying from trying to understand something about all of you I love how I can love someone and so many without needing anything at all but the opportunity to watch you across this glass or this table or this screen your laughing screaming lives together over food-colored and fat-saturated and machine-prepared gunk still and waiting for its descent into your ever-uncaring darkness inside, the gurgling community of digestive life I know and hope —oh please god please be true— I will one day soon —please soon— digest me dissolve me inside your stomach and eat me, eat me and laugh about something else, eat me and scream with each other and hop-bounce-fly into the air that's there whether the sun is up or not and take me with you, take me as you, take me away from all of this loneliness of sitting here in this one-occupant chair and just fucking, eat me

I love you

I am the seeds that grow into you
in the cafeteria alone

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