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Why did I do that? Ego.  Lust.  Mystery.  Opportunity. The lure of something new and untapped; a scent unregistered, voice un-memorized; inside jokes yet to be born. Such a heady dervish dancing, spinning, surrounding all that tiny life I perceived as quite the opposite; set in motion not so much by the haunted eyes of the widow lady— weaving once again well-worn epics of her-story for an adoring audience, luridly exploiting tragedy for various personal gains— but maybe by the way she stroked that beer bottle while she spoke? Without doubt, there were other factors, but you were never one of them. I plead stupid. Vain. Shallow. Self-absorbed. Short-sighted. Ridiculous. Unforgiveable. Twenty-one. For many years I claimed, “If I make my mistakes big enough I just might learn something”. When I learned there are no mistakes, recognized my arrogance, gave up to the universe, threw up my hands and succumbed to the ride, embracing my own sky... all those times I’d thought of you turned into stars raining like tears of brilliant joy onto a black canvas, formed overlapping constellations, and shone like a ************ Stars to wish on, stars to navigate by, stars to name on a starry night, stars to twist into animal shapes like a clown with long balloons— and all those stars, and there are more than I can count— settled forever in my heart and cannot be dislodged. Here I Iay on my virtual back, atop my personal Alaska dream mountain, on a summer night deep as sin; imagining you laying beside me, pointing out the brightest ones, recounting the stories I’ve forgotten; all those connections to you twinkling overhead— and I savor the blessing of your big bang smile
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Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 6:08 PM UTC
Astronomy of Remorse
Why did I do that? Ego.  Lust.  Mystery.  Opportunity. The lure of something new and untapped; a scent unregistered, voice un-memorized; inside jokes yet to be born. Such a heady dervish dancing, spinning, surrounding all that tiny life I perceived as quite the opposite; set in motion not so much by the haunted eyes of the widow lady— weaving once again well-worn epics of her-story for an adoring audience, luridly exploiting tragedy for various personal gains— but maybe by the way she stroked that beer bottle while she spoke? Without doubt, there were other factors, but you were never one of them. I plead stupid. Vain. Shallow. Self-absorbed. Short-sighted. Ridiculous. Unforgiveable. Twenty-one. For many years I claimed, “If I make my mistakes big enough I just might learn something”. When I learned there are no mistakes, recognized my arrogance, gave up to the universe, threw up my hands and succumbed to the ride, embracing my own sky... all those times I’d thought of you turned into stars raining like tears of brilliant joy onto a black canvas, formed overlapping constellations, and shone like a ************ Stars to wish on, stars to navigate by, stars to name on a starry night, stars to twist into animal shapes like a clown with long balloons— and all those stars, and there are more than I can count— settled forever in my heart and cannot be dislodged. Here I Iay on my virtual back, atop my personal Alaska dream mountain, on a summer night deep as sin; imagining you laying beside me, pointing out the brightest ones, recounting the stories I’ve forgotten; all those connections to you twinkling overhead— and I savor the blessing of your big bang smile
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Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 6:08 PM UTC
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