Pauses in the Early Times

 

Looking back, he could only think about geometry.  Physics...timing.

What had led him to intersect her...or perhaps her arc merely melted into his...an apex, an arrival.  A collision.  

Either way, he was surprised when he heard her voice in a place most unexpected...a SoHo bar, late at night, in an evening surprisingly quiet in its weekday wear.  

But there are very few voices that ring the chimes in his head.

Is that really you? she said.  He tilted his head, wondering if the words were even intended for him to hear.  He didn't hear a reply and fully turned.

And she was there.  In a place they had never been together...but now were.  Outside a sudden ambulance siren broke the evening and he had to delay his response, so they stood there...this collision unfolding in silence and she didn't blink once.  Rather she just stared.

Then, it got quiet and yet he was gently reminded how much he enjoyed just the quietness of her and how he could simply stay and stand with her.  Or stare.  Didn't really matter, their were arcs intersecting, complicated algorithms that had landed her here.  

What are you doing here he asked and immediately was regretful and rapidly added I mean, it's rather amazing you are here....but...really.  What are you doing here?

She smiled...she already had a drink in her hand and she was a bit in shadows in the dim lit bar...he could see her face, but not much more.  He could see her eyes though.

I just stumbled upon you.

She cocked her head as was her wont...and regarded him.  

Well, he offered...there is no stumbling.

Yet she replied.

So she joined him and her glass was empty and then it was replenished and they spoke about a million things, nothing special, just catching up...just this arc of a story that suddenly intersected.  They were huddled, hunched together...almost like their bodies made the shape of a heart if you were to see them at the bar.

It wasn't much longer than lights started alighting and the bar became an overhead distraction.  He paid and asked her where she was heading.

South.

They walked a bit, avoiding the uneven bricks in deep Soho streets and the scattered landscape caused them to sometimes bump into each other, a slight move into her,  a lean into him...a random intersection of bodies and sinew and muscles aligning...for just the briefest of moments.  In his mind he accounted for each little movement, his hand in the gentle part of her back, and when the tiny collision occurred it was like flint and rock.  

They ambled down the darkened street, coming into the circle of a streetlight the returning to a shadow.  As they walked and she sometimes got closer he could smell her perfume.

As they passed on particular dark brick alcove he felt her briefly stumble, and he pushed her alongside her back and his other arm came across her front...it was almost a hug but in his mind it was a catch...and she walked backwards a few steps until the bricks stopped her and he was brought closer into her...and in that moment she leaned forward with a kiss...a first quick kiss with cool lips and then he felt her warmth and she intersected and collided with him and her hands pulled him towards her and the geometry of them allowed for the perfect of angles and in the dark, if you could see their bodies intertwined and the shape of them in that alcove it almost like the perfectly drawn curves of a heart.

Soothe

 

She is like awaking to a rain storm...not thundering but rather the brushing of rain against a window, painting the house in the gray colors of a drizzle.  A rhythmic sense, the way a squall builds...the pressure changes, the bit of stillness in the air...then the gradual pulse...the building of ingredients...wind, clouds, and the heavy bit of moisture that fills in the clouds and begs for release.

She is like a puffy-eyed awakening...an over-sleep, when the color in the room is brighter than it should be, the day has gotten away from you, but there is no remorse of the extra hours or minutes that you lingered in bed...scant dreams, barely remembered, just the warmth of covers and unruly hair...an awakening and you are hungry.

She is the butterfly amongst the flowers, the rainbow after rain.

The greenlight just as you approach an intersection.

The salted caramel on the tongue, the bit of chocolate on the angel-food cake.

The IV drip.

She spackles my life, covering my holes, smoothing me in uneven patches.

She sits in an easy-chair in my mind, subtly rocking, subtly moving and stays empty-church quiet until a bit of me gets a splinter and she extracts it and kisses the wound and I barely notice...until she needs to do it again and then it becomes a pattern and she begins to become more than a want...she becomes a need and I awaken to a thought of her...and then I think of her as my day begins and I am soothed.