she didn't know..
until she knew
what a curve of learning!
1.
both college-students and real good-friends
he was a science-and-botany buff
*and the mountain would get a taste of his cells
and she, student of philosophy and languages
would hear the latent-message from a dozen sources
2.
they shared confidences to the other
things they never told a soul
he also discussed his theories and science-experiments and projects and stuff
she told him how slightly-uphill her lectures in Russian proved to be
they'd meet there every Monday.. under the campus-trees
with two hellish-strong espressos
he remembered her chewy-doughnuts without any snow-sprinkles
'cause she was given to these silly coughing-fits
when eating peanuts and pulses
he teased her endless and ragged all her idiosyncrasies
they seemed closer than kin
yet he seemed to remain aloof when she tried to get closer
he brushed off her advances
and told her to get lost
then ran off with Lilian on Tuesday
then Zita next Tuesday
then Sumaya the following Wednesday
and Tarryn on Thursday after that
and so it went on for a whole while
the whole academic-year, in fact
yet still
they studied together
and swore in debates
and met every Monday
oh, that was the one day he never dated
3.
on the first day of each month
he'd give her a beautiful clutch-pencil
its casing bled entirely in translucent-fuchsin
and told her to guard well context over content
she never understood this cryptic-crap
but smilingly accepted each one
she thought them too pretty to use
and kept them in a special-box
yet her heart broke each time
he took out a new flavour-of-girl
and shared his tongue with
Sally and Margaret and Lisbeth and Anne..
some lasted days, others short-weeks
but they all fizzled out
like the pop that they swallowed
and she wondered if he would ever
favour her with affection
give to her what those lucky-gals got
look into her eyes like that
whisper sweet-nothings to her
why didn't he want her?
but he was brusque with her and abrupt as discordant-chords
he scolded her like uneven-bricks tumbling down
and yet, it was to her that he played
his own alternate-ballads on his banjo
i n t r i c a t e - b e a u t y like living-pearls on those strings
he couldn't look at her, then
too caught-up in sweet-delivery of song
and with his eyes closed, her imagination took high-flight
as she was able to stare at him, without fear
in wonder
in enchantment
and marvel at the mesmerising co-ordination of those busy-fingers..
others passed by, but he did not care.. so giving
she felt so unique
'cause she got what they did not
unbreakable-bond of
music and.. talk and.. those clutch-pencil gifts
and for his birthday, she gave him a two-tone pelargonium, potted in cream
left him wordless..
4.
it was near the end of November
(just like now:)
and he casually mentioned of going away
a week-long hike in December
with a girl in a group that he'd met, some Sarah or other
and something in her flared and she broke down..
went off the rails
he looked on aghast, in total silence.. half-perplexed, half-squinting
which disquietened her far more than any outburst could have
he stood there before her, on that Monday
in the beautiful mid-morning sun
she remembered, to the moment.. how the light caught his eyes
seemed to be looking right t-h-r-o-u-g-h her
and almost, she saw the tiniest-trace of something...
struck by a touch of liquid-vulnerability in his being
but hooded-eyes quick again, typical-hider!
he reached into his backpack
****** her a clutch-pencil
which she almost rejected
but she calmed herself down
and he looked at her once
turned on heel
and walked to his Beetle
rode off the campus
without looking back
and she kept on wondering what it was all about
that silent intense-look
5.
news came of a group of hikers who succumbed
from high up
some slipped and
her acrid-tears were not the only to fall
upon learning......
6.
she ran back to her dorm
reached for his gifts.. in full-remorse
and clutching a pencil in each hand
she squeezed and accidentally pressed on the flick-top
and then...............
(it came out)
i t . . . c a m e . . . o u t . . . ! !
never in her life would she be as stunned
as they repeated their message
over and over
in tandem audio-confusion
in all the tongues she had studied
she learns now
of the time he took to delve into her crap to relay his truth through his amazing-invention!
7.
at the interment, she couldn't speak
displacement dipped too deep
she took up one clutch-pencil
and pressed on the top
message loud and clear
custom-made brilliance direct from heaven's fingertips
the pall-bearers lifted him up
and
out of her life
now this roundabout-present lies in the velours-box
like he does in his
students of learning..
in book.. and in heart
S T - 25 nov 2013
sort of confusing day - yet, clearing tracks can be good thing, no?
yes!
the pen sure be mightier than the sword ~
but life is much like a pencil - ain't nada permanent :)
sub: beloved
father, beloved.. who will care for us?
when you depart for war tomorrow
against the people's will
mother, beloved.. we pray for you
your seven children miss you so
we seek your guidance now
children, beloved.. hark ye well
there be a place to go, when alone
to feed the soul.. go quietly - inside
it's simple-truth:
(when you fail to go within
you go without)
