He always finds someone to talk to. This doesn’t surprise me. Any man I’ve ever wanted carried the need to express himself to anyone who would listen,

and that’s why they ever wanted me. I’m a good listener.
I watch him from far down the shore, as he stands a considerable distance from a bleached blonde in a Woodstock bikini. I wonder if I should be jealous, but I don’t have it in me these days.
He brushes his tawny, flailing hair into a ponytail, and waves at me. I wave back from my bubblegum beach chair.
John Green sits in my lap feeling heavier than the words I need to hear. I’ll be leaving for New York soon and I wonder if I’ll miss this place. I wonder if the boy down the beach will miss me, and what he might say when he finds out.
There are rainbows in the waves today, glimmering from safron to apricot to berry, to cerulean and violet. The usual cornhusky, southern skies are a deep indigo now against grape and vanilla clouds and the soft sand is flavored sage green. Slipping my sunglasses off my nose, the color drains as if down a kitchen sink. The world is not so faded out there, so long as I choose to ignore it.
I watch him trudge the long expanse from the oil-slick jetties to my chair. When he reaches me, he bends to one knee and kisses my cheek.
“You know what I’ve just realized?” he whispers in my ear against the gailing winds.
“Hmm?” as I raise my eyebrows, questioningly.
“That I’m going to ask you to marry me someday.” He kisses a trail down my neck and collarbone, and I smile for him.
He begins to walk back to the waters as I slip the sunglasses back onto my face. The world bursts with hues and tones and I remind myself the world isn’t so faded, so long as I choose to ignore it.


11 thoughts on “polarized.

    1. I want to work in revelations, not just spin silly tales for money. I want to fish as deep down as possible into my own subconscious in the belief that once that far down, everyone will understand because they are the same that far down. – Same fella

  1. “Any man I’ve ever wanted carried the need to express himself to anyone who would listen.” Yes, I certainly get this. At the same time, however, aren’t there different methods of how one approaches the end? I mean, I don’t strike up random conversations with strangers, understanding the futility of that. I write my thoughts, knowing that there are plenty of people who will listen but few who will hear.

      1. Most never will. The only conversations worth having are the one’s where you pick up right away where you left off–that is to say, in Eternity. I can’t find such conversations anymore, so I’ve stopped talking to people. There’s an incredible emancipation in silence.

        Are you really moving to New York?

      2. Growth in silence? Oh yes; especially when one writes.

        “Start spreading the news . . .”

        The NW would suit you better milady.

say something to me.

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