the creature within me revived all at once

13 May 2003 - 01:52

<<--unravel * reintegrate-->>

The trees are low, and the wind blows through me. I am walking streets that have been repaved since my last foot falls. I have amnesia; the last year of my life is a memory that left me when my eyes fluttered open this morning.

There is no spatial continuity within the past few weeks; the thematic continuity is driving with loved ones, hearts and windows open. Three weeks ago I climbed into his cab. He told me he had only fifteen minutes; I was with him until I stepped onto the plane. And here, I wake up from a nap and my mother says, "Donna, would you like to go for a drive?" And we walk in the door and my sister says, "Donna, how about a drive?" They cling to me as if I'm a treasure, and a part of my life now will always be unreachable, distant gold in the hills. Dig up a mountain and not get any closer.

Trees low clouds low sky immense figure in black small black cutting the landscape cutting through time walked through the door and I wanted to run.

He told me a story, in the weeks I drove in his cab. A man and his best friend in a car crash. The man held his best friend's head together until help arrived. He held the wheel, and I held together the skull. Every moment, every ragged breath together, but without the kind of intimacy where I thought I would make my home once. I held your skull together and didn't kiss you, not until the end of three weeks. Give that much weight to every gesture and it's just wind, wind whispering in your ear,

You have a history. These low trees, the water in the air. You have a history, that long pause, that black pall, and the frenzy before. You have a history, and it means nothing and everything. Hollow and substantial.

<<--unravel * reintegrate-->>