I’d like to take you to this moment, it’s five in the afternoon and downtown Portland is quiet.
The sidewalks are cluttered with bodies silently moving, sleepily dodging the sun the sounds of sirens doors slamming cars braking for red lights fill the lapses of time I walk slowly through the crowd reflections of sunlight jumping off tower windows illuminating my elbow three freckles on my forehead my right knee The space surrounding me smells strongly of burning tobacco foods dipped in boiling oil rich, dark coffee.
There’s a way my lungs jolted before and there’s way they do now.
The parachute of air running in and out flexing like wings inside my chest. How they used to flutter
how they once had a choreographed routine
designed around their sudden need jolt
whenever they thought of being near lips
Now, in the shadows of concrete and plexiglass they remain following a newfound mundane routine flapping their wings only to keep me upright only to feed the world between my ears
I’d like you stand in this moment
wrap your fingers in the way loss pulls like a trigger
Wake you up to the world where the towers finally fall allow you to watch as they cascade towards you and feed each human instinct that follows, do you run? Do you stand in fear? I want you here in this moment alone in your interpretation of a body
I want you to see the way I pull on you the way I run from you the way I stand glued to the ground as each wave washes over me
The way you came into my life anxious the three seconds where the entire block is silent and you can suddenly hear each and every single one of the vibrations your body makes when no one is looking you in the eyes as they pass you by.
I don’t even know how bite into you when you’re just the lapse in time
the five in the afternoon lull that manifests the slow rhythmic pulsing of my heart feeding only to keep me alive the machine that clicks at every passing minute
I want you to crave the connection
the sounds of voices the stem of a scream to grow inside your throat
let it consume you
the way it does me a fear not of being alone, but never truly being seen