She Journeys

she was on fire last night and I was breathin' gasoline

Night Piece, by Robin Skelton

I have been dreaming half the night
of holding you beside the sea
and watching waves crash into light.

I do not know how I can write
of that heart-pounding mystery;
I have been dreaming half the night
of holding you beside the sea

and wondering if those breakers might
be telling of our times to be
when tide and moon are at their height;
I have been dreaming half the night
of holding you beside the sea
and watching waves crash into light.

I had a dream last night, that is still got it's hot little hands wrapped around my heart. When it begins, I'm in this large room, and it's full of people. Could be a church basement, a community hall, somewhere where there is a lot of different sorts of individuals, and not a lot of scenic clutter. I look across the room and am stirred by the sight of an attractive man, around the same age is me. He is wearing sunglasses, and is holding a long thin white cane, and, putting two and two together, I realize he is blind. A *very negative and embarassing* thought crosses my mind-- maybe he would be interested me, because he can't see what I look like. The next thing that I remember is that he and are I together when we're told that we have to go to this other place, on, like, a pilgrimage of some sort.

So, we're walking somewhere in the middle of nowhere when we come out on this road or path running on the edge of a large hill looking down into a valley. I gasp, in complete awe of the view, and start expounding on how absolutely beautiful it is, and how we have to stop here for a minute. We stand at the edge of this place, looking down and the sun is setting, and I realize that he can't see what I can, and ask him if I offended him/hurt his feelings by talking about this beautiful view that he can't see. He gives me this grin and says no, but f I liked, maybe I could describe it to him? So, I do -- the distant spires of a city off on the left, the valley in the middle, and on the far right, miles and miles of rolling hills. When I finish, we turn to leave and then -- I remember this part, the physical sensations and the emotional echoes, so vividly it hurts -- he moves to take my hand and lace his fingers with mine. For some bizarre reason he has trouble fitting his fingers between mine and teases me that my hands are too small. Then, hand in hand we keep walking.

We get to this other place, that actually resembles a hotel, and we're supposed to go to our rooms. His parents(?) say that because he is sick he needs to be quarantined, so his room is down this side hallway away from everyone else's. I don't think the parents want me with him, but I end up in his room anyways. We're sitting on his bed, facing eachother, and talking, and he is laughing about something. He stops, and there is silence. And then, he leans forward slowly, and kisses me, the first time playfully, and then very thoroughly the next.

posted by TriptychChick @ 9:38 PM