the fall
at lost lagoon beside the underpass where we stopped to admire the guerilla backlit photos one day a lifetime ago. sun setting now, mentally calculating how dark it would become while trekking around stanley park. realizing i would pass the cliffs, recalling another cliff, me on top of you protecting your head from rocks with my hand, feeling magic and the breeze and you inside me. now face to the sky whispering ‘i love you’ towards the purple clouds as though they would protect it and bring it to you so far away. as if it would mean something to you now.
sobs as the memoryconfusion cocktail sets in, chest-heaving ugly sobs attracting startled glances at the woman who looks as though she has It All Going For Her. feeling i should go home but not wanting to retreat in tears, deciding to set off around the park to keep occupied, to keep myself from being alone there (where you slept and cooked and made love with me). setting off, wobbling and sobbing watching them approaching looking confused by the tears on my face. staring.
gasp. crunch. anhh-hh. footsteps.
3:20ish of this harmonizing the hiss of gas and my laugh that wasn’t my laugh in my ears. metallic. flat. head buzzing teeth chattering your name repeated like self-inflicted cuts disguised as an ommm. “do you want me to call him?” silence. “he’s gone”.
