The floor of the desert outside my door is covered with objects that I didn't see the night before. There is a pair of boots that wore through when I skidded off the side of the road. There is a broken bottle of perfume with a jagged flower made of glass on the stopper. There is a torn jacket that has the name of someone I love written on the back of it. There are also letters that I wrote on the inside, in the front pocket, next to a bag that holds my heart, or something like my heart. All of these things are covered with a thin layer of cobweb, and everything is wet.
You never know what kinds of things the floods will bring in after a vinegar moon like the one we had last night. Everything comes back. This makes me feel hopeful and terribly sad, because I have a sense that this hopeful feeling is very temporary here.
There are too many people walking around for this time of morning, and I don't recognize any of them, so I do kind of wonder if they are alive or from somewhere else, if this is a trick of light from the moon. Nothing makes sense and everything is a little bit sad, and some things are more sad than others. But everyone here seems to be a little more wrinkled than people usually look, maybe it's because I'm working harder to look at them this morning, maybe this is a morning when all the haggard people have been released from their burdens and we all get some peace and quiet.
It's not too long, though, before I hear the sound of flutes and drums, and I understand that this is the next story, the next chapter, and everyone who will be in it is leaving soon, and I am supposed to be in it because it is my book. I run back to my door, because there's someone close who I want to be in the next chapter for sure, and beyond that I have no desires, and no requests, and nothing more to ask for. I see her from below, she's overlooking all the damage from the flood of the vinegar moon, and her eyes are full of silver slivers and they bleed silver and red, it's beautiful, just beautiful, I love the look of silver and red from her eyes, especially from her eyes, no one else does that to me.
I find my way to her door, which takes about three months, but eventually I remember the way, and by the time I get there, I see that she has tied her feet to her chair. I tell her that everyone is leaving, we have to go, I ask her to go with me, we have to go, I ask her or tell her we have to go, I don't know which, I didn't think it would matter so much.
She points to her feet and says, "Look at what happened, I can't move."
It's very sad, sure, but it happens all the time, I've done it to myself enough times, and it's easy enough to fix because the solution is as easy as it looks, only this time when she says this I do start to cry a little, and this turns into something that lasts for a very long time, because there's nothing that I can do, and I've seen this sort of thing too many times before, and it can takes years to untie a knot that's that simple, and I start to remember last night, and how the flood outside probably did come from me, from all of this, because this has been going on for a long time now, and probably so much longer than most doctors would recommend, it's far past four hours for one thing, and for another, my stomach still hasn't healed over from the glass flowers and that was even longer ago than this. And I know I cause floods whenever there are too many things beyond my control, and whenever there are people who want things from me, even though they can't really say what they want, because that would mean some kind of commitment, and no one wants that, not in this century, not with things as they are right now, revolution is not a good time for a new relationship. So the flood that started all of this, or that was a part of all this, this is all my fault in some ways, or at least the flood is my fault. Even though I was working in cooperation with the moon.
But the sounds are getting louder, and I can't avoid it any more, it's been too many months now, and the vinegar moon seals doors, and it's time to go. If we don't leave, we might become like those undead things that disintegrate in the sunlight, and I'm too much phantom to be allowed to disappear like that. So I say we have to leave, I ask her to leave with me, I tell her it's time to go, whatever I say is the wrong thing, but I see sea monsters starting to reach through her window, and they're going to get in because the water is rising. Because of the flood. My fault. And she points to her feet and reminds me that she has tied herself to her chair, and she says, "You can see the difficult situation I am in."
I think we are both in a difficult situation, but this is a good opportunity, and it might be the Greatest Adventure Anyone Ever Had Anywhere Ever, and I realize I probably should have told her about this before now, because it is rather rash and sudden, but there are sea monsters, and it really is a good time to go, and it even seems like another flood like last night could start bringing things back to life, but not the ones we like, a flood that brings back the ones that shine like gold but lie like thieves, and are more interested in the jewels in our skin that the ones under our tongues, the ones who refuse to use words like "lover" or "later" but tattoo our names and faces in their skin as soon as we've fallen asleep. This is no place for anyone who's awake and can see that whatever this moon is bringing in through the windows, it's not something to wait around for, that things are going to get very complicated, and the sound of the song outside the window is so much closer and it's really so very sweet, and it sounds familiar, and it tastes like honey and cinnamon and grass and peppermint, and even though I don't realize that these tears are already falling on my face again I do realize that I am not in her house any more and that my feet are on the ground and I'm moving with the direction of a beat that was once distant, and is now as familiar and familial as the bells that ring in my blood and even though I don't recognize any of the people around me, it will come soon enough, all of it will come clear soon enough, as clear as it's supposed to be for me soon enough.
You never know what kinds of things the floods will bring in after a vinegar moon like the one we had last night. Everything comes back. This makes me feel hopeful and terribly sad, because I have a sense that this hopeful feeling is very temporary here.
There are too many people walking around for this time of morning, and I don't recognize any of them, so I do kind of wonder if they are alive or from somewhere else, if this is a trick of light from the moon. Nothing makes sense and everything is a little bit sad, and some things are more sad than others. But everyone here seems to be a little more wrinkled than people usually look, maybe it's because I'm working harder to look at them this morning, maybe this is a morning when all the haggard people have been released from their burdens and we all get some peace and quiet.
It's not too long, though, before I hear the sound of flutes and drums, and I understand that this is the next story, the next chapter, and everyone who will be in it is leaving soon, and I am supposed to be in it because it is my book. I run back to my door, because there's someone close who I want to be in the next chapter for sure, and beyond that I have no desires, and no requests, and nothing more to ask for. I see her from below, she's overlooking all the damage from the flood of the vinegar moon, and her eyes are full of silver slivers and they bleed silver and red, it's beautiful, just beautiful, I love the look of silver and red from her eyes, especially from her eyes, no one else does that to me.
I find my way to her door, which takes about three months, but eventually I remember the way, and by the time I get there, I see that she has tied her feet to her chair. I tell her that everyone is leaving, we have to go, I ask her to go with me, we have to go, I ask her or tell her we have to go, I don't know which, I didn't think it would matter so much.
She points to her feet and says, "Look at what happened, I can't move."
It's very sad, sure, but it happens all the time, I've done it to myself enough times, and it's easy enough to fix because the solution is as easy as it looks, only this time when she says this I do start to cry a little, and this turns into something that lasts for a very long time, because there's nothing that I can do, and I've seen this sort of thing too many times before, and it can takes years to untie a knot that's that simple, and I start to remember last night, and how the flood outside probably did come from me, from all of this, because this has been going on for a long time now, and probably so much longer than most doctors would recommend, it's far past four hours for one thing, and for another, my stomach still hasn't healed over from the glass flowers and that was even longer ago than this. And I know I cause floods whenever there are too many things beyond my control, and whenever there are people who want things from me, even though they can't really say what they want, because that would mean some kind of commitment, and no one wants that, not in this century, not with things as they are right now, revolution is not a good time for a new relationship. So the flood that started all of this, or that was a part of all this, this is all my fault in some ways, or at least the flood is my fault. Even though I was working in cooperation with the moon.
But the sounds are getting louder, and I can't avoid it any more, it's been too many months now, and the vinegar moon seals doors, and it's time to go. If we don't leave, we might become like those undead things that disintegrate in the sunlight, and I'm too much phantom to be allowed to disappear like that. So I say we have to leave, I ask her to leave with me, I tell her it's time to go, whatever I say is the wrong thing, but I see sea monsters starting to reach through her window, and they're going to get in because the water is rising. Because of the flood. My fault. And she points to her feet and reminds me that she has tied herself to her chair, and she says, "You can see the difficult situation I am in."
I think we are both in a difficult situation, but this is a good opportunity, and it might be the Greatest Adventure Anyone Ever Had Anywhere Ever, and I realize I probably should have told her about this before now, because it is rather rash and sudden, but there are sea monsters, and it really is a good time to go, and it even seems like another flood like last night could start bringing things back to life, but not the ones we like, a flood that brings back the ones that shine like gold but lie like thieves, and are more interested in the jewels in our skin that the ones under our tongues, the ones who refuse to use words like "lover" or "later" but tattoo our names and faces in their skin as soon as we've fallen asleep. This is no place for anyone who's awake and can see that whatever this moon is bringing in through the windows, it's not something to wait around for, that things are going to get very complicated, and the sound of the song outside the window is so much closer and it's really so very sweet, and it sounds familiar, and it tastes like honey and cinnamon and grass and peppermint, and even though I don't realize that these tears are already falling on my face again I do realize that I am not in her house any more and that my feet are on the ground and I'm moving with the direction of a beat that was once distant, and is now as familiar and familial as the bells that ring in my blood and even though I don't recognize any of the people around me, it will come soon enough, all of it will come clear soon enough, as clear as it's supposed to be for me soon enough.
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