April 12, 2011

Open heart surgery
i am remembering the early 90's today. the streets of new york city. hand in hand with my future ex-husband. we have no idea do we? the beauty that awaits.. the devastation.. the miles of numbness.. the injuries.. the spells of joy. my legs fell fast asleep as the avenues stretched from harlem to the diamond district but he pulled me along. my heart like an engine that would not die.. i could have walked to maryland.

he was my boyfriend then. he was sleeping on his brother's floor uptown. i was sleeping in my childhood bedroom. i took the train into the city once a week to visit. nothing had happened yet. we were still going to be very famous. we were still going to travel and have adventures. we still held hands everywhere.. we had no life together.. we had no money yet.. no house.. no favorite television shows.. no private jokes.. no mutual friends.. no bed.. no christmas decorations.. no nightly candlelit dinners.. no little dog to love like the baby i couldn't have.. no change.. no disappointment in each other.. no what ifs.. no fence that he took two years to paint.. no relapse for me to disappear into.. no in-laws to resent.. no big bank accounts.. no bankruptcy.. no record deal.. no lust.. no anti-depressants.. no sad silence.. no sex life to sabotage.. no backyard for me to spend a summer staring out the window at.. no baseball card collections.. no clothes i did not need.. no separate vacations.. no history. we were just a boyfriend and a girlfriend walking thirteen miles straight down the middle of new york city like the first impatient and clean cut into a wedding cake. and i am remembering it like i'm tracing the long thin line of an open heart surgery scar.

1 comment:

Patrick Moore said...

That'll preach on any Sunday.