wild melody

you're listening, focusing on the top of her head as she leans out over the fence to avoid looking at either of us. this story isn't pretty, or neat, or easy to tell. her voice rises & falls with the rhythm of the waves. i'm trying to focus, trying to listen. but i can see your face. so i am lost somewhere in one of my universes. the one i hate the most, where puzzle pieces & numbers & fragments of color that i don't recall even seeing, much less taking note of; suddenly collide into a picture. an image i didn't see coming. (how is it that i never see these truth bombs coming until they are fully formed in my mind? who invented this instant connect-the-dots processor? can i return it for a refund? i'd rather realize things slowly or not at all. the human mind needs time to figure these things out thank you very much) so many small gestures & individual words & moments of frustration make sense now. i get it. i don't know what i...

i have so many ideas, moments, snapshots, thoughts locked inside. pivotal & mundane, deep & lighthearted. all of it wants out, all of it i'm afraid i'll forget; none of it seems to have language. where is the expression format for those of us who struggle with words? sometimes i wonder how such a (supposedly) small human can hold so much. at least, i am told that i am small, people try to pick me up--which ends badly for them-- (i'm a grown-ass woman what.the.hell do they expect?!) or ask how i reach things & tell me "your feet can't be tired you're so tiny they carry no weight" (america explain) & the whole world can see over my head & also runs me over because of that last phrase. in fact one of my friends recently picked up my disgusting work shoes because he couldn't believe how little it was. i don't *feel* small. this is my skin, and i can't compare it to any other skin. it's always been a funny reminder, like ...

“what are your dreams for your thirties?”  i know she’s talking to me but it hits me with the force of a stone fist to the chest. how can she drop such an earth-shattering sentence in the middle of yoga? i glance at our bird to my right, buying time.  “me or liliya?” “you, obviously.” “oh.” my thoughts scramble as liliya laughs and says something about how she has two years left how can she think about that yet?  “i’ve known what my goal for thirty was since i was 27.” i say, trying to stop the words bc i can’t —don’t want —to explain them. now both friends are looking at me expectantly and i.... am empty. my mind is a mess bc feelings. all these emotions of pain & regret & the deep excruciating ache of loss swirls up to my throat. the familiar suffocation of T I M E slowly covers my heart.  i have several flashes of realization at the same time: these girls love me.   i have to face this grief. i can’t run from it anyway. none of ...