in the high note

it started out high, the sharp white zig-zag of electricity

 

zinging from sky to sand; people walking hand in

hand, as if nothing were happening, as if every-

 

thing happening between them was all that

mattered, was all they saw. i saw the ground

 

being split open, and shards of sand singeing to

glass; i saw a mass of people being murdered by

 

the elements. i saw. but i was walking alone, along the

beach, my head full of static things i couldn’t shake.

 

then, suddenly, a piece of me was transported to

you, to the home of your face: your eyes, your

 

laughing mouth, the glow of your hair sweeping

down and across as you spoke into and about

 

machines. i was there in spirit; i watched you pace

the floor, chew your lip, glance up through those

 

black & gold strands to track on the tv. i saw. i wanted to

be seen, but i knew i was incomplete, sitting there in a

 

vapor stupor—feeling a solid betrayal.

this is not how i wanted this to happen:

 

this is not how i thought it would be. i should

feel utter glee right now, sitting two feet from

 

you in your unarmored air; but instead i feel sick.

somehow you discover me there, place your steady

 

hand on my hair, smooth back my fever, whisper

gently that i need to go. i know—

 

i know it’s time to move on beyond this non-being;

beyond this waiting and wanting and wishing.

 

but—to hear your voice, to see you mime that note, to watch you

scoop up the moment with your arms and sing to the four walls—

 

was a private sacred beauty that will devastate me forever.

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