second exercise: from the perspective of a sixteen year old james r leaving my house after the first night we kissed.

i was floating on air when i left her house that night. next to me my dad was driving with both hands on the steering wheel, his mouth unsurprisingly sealed shut as he navigated her unfamiliar neighborhood's streets. i pressed my forehead against the cold glass of the window, my mind racing, my hands tightly folded in my lap to keep them from getting loose and flapping around like excited pidgeons, my jacket barely audibly creaking against itself every time i breathed. i almost wanted to talk to my dad that night, tell him that i'd spent the day with the most wonderful girl who had a camera for eyes and lips just like really cliche things that are soft and lovely. i never do know how to describe lips anymore, because lately i've been feeling so creative and lips, well, they just aren't. i see something in her, something pure and gentle and eager- dad, i want to tell you that i plan to draw this goodness out of her and share it with her because i don't think she even realizes it's there. i like the way she smiles, ducks her head and tucks her hair behind her ears with hands half-obscured by gray sleeves. when we play video games her thumbs pound the pad like immortal emperor chords and i have to hold myself back from breaking into air guitar because then i would lose. i like watching her try to play bass, her small hands straining like spiders with legs too short to reach the next branch, messing up and starting over- she's not perfect, but she's got that gossamer thread spinning out behind her and helping her down the tree, and i think i can learn from her, too.

past future

last five entries:
blisters and bruises - 03.18.08
dorsey - 03.13.07
finding peace - 02.02.07
unintentional clean slate - 09.11.06
natural born cyborg - 06.23.06