portraits of one's own making

I make up memories that never happened about deep snow, a happy us, bounding dogs and joy, so much joy. The memory causes regret irritated to life by little dreams I quietly carried in the din of your ideas. You framed us big as a portrait with only your talent to paint it from.

There was no time for romance only business and the acquiring of more of what made your shabby kingdom. I pulled my slow heart through change and never really recovered from the speed and the wind of your rush. If you would have wooed me for a while, my hand would have loved to have been held in parks and under umbrellas.

But you have moved into new and vast frames with oil colors to paint new love, old lies to cover. Brush wide strokes, the mistake of our portrait. You look so fresh and innocent of a past you are responsible for.

But be the virgin queen in this new disguise and I'm sure you will seduce new bright ones. They are always good audiences for talented, shameless minds. And your silly posse of court held vaguely near, always nods yes and pats your ruffles clean of inconsistencies of character.

You really should rule a vast and powerful painting, a kingdom of the most fascinating self denial.

a balancing act including dance and manuscripts

There was a smitten man on the crowded train, smitten with me. I would have been smitten back but I'm not inclined to the male variety. I was making eye contact with the girl six people over. The one with the straight brown gold hair, eyes perfectly green and brown. Distinctly, they were green, they were brown.

I am the courteous train passenger, melting and slinking into free spaces to avoid the jostling of ass and shoulder. I was busy, I watched the girl watch me watch her and I watched the man read and edit a manuscript while balancing his long frame lightly against a pole. The train lurched and he stepped on my foot. I was already whispering, "no worries" and shaking my head in forgiveness by the time he straightened himself and looked up to me to apologize.

His eyes widened by a fraction of a centimeter, lighting up then quickly snuffed, as to not come out of his cool. But I saw it, I was a Lego fit, at least for the rest of this ride. And from this time on he looked to me between sentences and corrections. He adjusted his position to be in front of me when I moved to sit down. I watched him watch me out of the corner of my eye as I watched the hazel eyed girl get off the train.

I kept my gaze pleasant and never quite on him as we left the train. I did that subtle dance of awareness and polite disinterest. He lingered a second or two, gentle and in step, balancing his role with mine. Then aware that the song ended he increased in speed and just before he took a flight of stairs to his next train, he looked back and smiled.

Vodka and watermelon

There was a boy, drunk and asleep on the train yesterday as I was coming home. As people were getting off, seats became available and I sat in one across from the boy. I opened up my book and settled in for the rest of the trip.

But things changed. The boy's body decided it could no longer put up with the vodka soaked watermelon he'd been eating all day. Out of the corner of my eye I saw liquid puking movement. I think I knew before the boy, he was only half aware of his own existence except for his misery.

six people and I shot up and flew to the side of the train, like mice running from water in a sinking ship. I placed myself close to the door so I could shoot out at the next stop, the boy thought this was a good idea for him as well. He lurched out of his seat and stumbled right at me. I launched myself into the crowd that had mashed themselves into a corner as he leaned over and puked in the direction of the door. I looked at all of our disgusted faces then longingly to the other side of the train where passengers sat watching, looking at us, glad they were not over here.

At this point there were ten of us crammed into a small corner in fear of this one barfing boy, 10 adults mashed together like scared prey. All because of this one slightly stupid human being who made a mistake. I felt foolish for being so grossed out.

I had the sneaking suspicion that we were behaving like we hadn't ever been stupid and drunk in our lives, like we were a separate sect of humans who could not consider taking part in such an experiment of bad manners and uncouth behavior. I was immediately embarrassed and deeply affected by this boys struggle to recover.

I'm not going to tell you that I helped him, I didn't. But I changed my position and became his equal again. I cared and felt no judgment anymore. it felt so good to remember there was no barrier other than the one I had imagined. All of us poured out and switched cars at the next stop, he got out and sat for a while.