“I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
it's so fabulous. because now i'm 41 and all that stuff that my longing was filled of- it's happened, or it hasn't, but this is my life. because i can sit here and i can remember. i can still paint and write and listen to music and drink coffee- but with out the drama (and with out the cigarettes). i have already made the big decisions, i have a career and someone i love having my morning coffee with and spending my nights with- the tiny flowing currents immediate and forever.
once you grow those roots and extra arms, once your heart has several pairs of legs and can expose you to the world in a way you didn't think possible from the inside of a coffee shop at 21, there is no going back. life tastes different- even the old flavors. the years and the moments are part of the extra arms- they are part of the root system that feeds us. now i can write and think from all those places, and all those years, that made me up. now i get to share it will four little people who are mostly immediate- and one who has my forever.
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.”
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.”
bukowski (via my cousin rachel:)
this poem reminds me of being young- like 20 years ago- and the drama that you are allowed to have when it's just you and the world. before you grow roots and octopus arms. before you become part of so many other people- before your heart grows several pairs of legs and walks off- while somehow still beating in your chest.
it's a rainy reflective day after a hard core rainy night. days like these send me back to places like those. i remember so well those years of coffee shops and cigarettes and sketch pads and poetry and weighty dr. marten shoes with little dresses, while my bag was also full of chemistry and physics books. i was in transition. somewhere between being limbless and carefree and artistic, and learning enough science to become someone who would help people quit smoking and then eventually help them as they died of their lung cancer.
those were days of longing and living in the moment at once. the longing was in a deep and waiting way, but it didn't steal from the moments - they were lived for themselves purely, they were soaked in and savored. they were full of the instant because they could be- there was nothing else distracting, nothing calling, nothing demanding, time had you all to itself.
now i'm reading a book called, 'staying connected to your teenager'. now i ride in the car with my little boys fighting in the middle seat and zoe in the way way back crying with "teenage drama". but.
those were days of longing and living in the moment at once. the longing was in a deep and waiting way, but it didn't steal from the moments - they were lived for themselves purely, they were soaked in and savored. they were full of the instant because they could be- there was nothing else distracting, nothing calling, nothing demanding, time had you all to itself.
now i'm reading a book called, 'staying connected to your teenager'. now i ride in the car with my little boys fighting in the middle seat and zoe in the way way back crying with "teenage drama". but.
it's so fabulous. because now i'm 41 and all that stuff that my longing was filled of- it's happened, or it hasn't, but this is my life. because i can sit here and i can remember. i can still paint and write and listen to music and drink coffee- but with out the drama (and with out the cigarettes). i have already made the big decisions, i have a career and someone i love having my morning coffee with and spending my nights with- the tiny flowing currents immediate and forever.
once you grow those roots and extra arms, once your heart has several pairs of legs and can expose you to the world in a way you didn't think possible from the inside of a coffee shop at 21, there is no going back. life tastes different- even the old flavors. the years and the moments are part of the extra arms- they are part of the root system that feeds us. now i can write and think from all those places, and all those years, that made me up. now i get to share it will four little people who are mostly immediate- and one who has my forever.
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