i'm just kind of standing there with a lopsided grin on my face and he's walking towards me, wearing that grubby pink t-shirt. everyone's rushing around us like a movie where the film is sped up x20, time-lapse it's called, and we're frozen in the moment. he smiles back, the kind of smile that transmits a rush of breath into my ear, the sound of his eyes gazing across my neck, and then i ask him. how did you know? he'd plucked the book from his shelf days earlier, telling me he thought i'd like it, and i tucked it away in my bag without a lot of thought. but somehow he'd known; somehow he'd read into my mind, into my past, stolen my apple pie memories and placed them in the pages of a short-story book he hadn't even written. i just kind of looked at him as we trekked across the field, our flashlight beams crossing and disappearing into the dewy grass blades tall from months of neglect. i was awed by his perceptions and the ease with which i felt i could share myself with him.

we'd been building up to this for months with strangely formal conversation that i often felt compelled to keep as a secret for myself. we could be friends for years and look back on this and laugh on front porch swings with light spilling out into the streets, i say as we lean against the wooden supports in the loft of the old barn. i brought him here to share in it and i can't explain why. he brushes the hair out of his eyes and tries to tuck it behind an ear that is too far away and i grin again at his mystery, just knowing that i'd somehow stumbled into an amazing gift named this boy and i wanted to postpone unwrapping him all the way for a long, long time.

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