So here I sit here considering what happened that would make me want to tell the story of how it had to happen. There's no Anecdote.
I met her on the subway or maybe it was the noonday train? It was mostly sunny that morning, that is to say that as far as the cloud cover went it wasn't likely to be spoiled by the apparent lack of rain. There was some flowers growing wildly from a crack in the sidewalk, her shoes were scuffed from running, her socks were white matching the graffiti on the walls behind that were marked with messages written in chalk.
Did I remember her smile, her lack of feminine shape, the old coat she had slung over one shoulder or the way her hair caught it the reluctant breeze of the street? How is it that you remember that she was flat chested or narrow hipped or had all her teeth, but not the color of her eyes as she glared up at my surprise that I would be fortunate again to find her down there to meet?
It is really only happenstance that make it feel like the Russian roulette equivalent to the randomness of chance that I would think to take down anything on note.
You see I was there. I did not really think I would find that she would care. As I said before there really is no story here, just a matter of the lack of it- there's no anecdote.
She glared up through the bangs of her brown hair that I could almost imagine she blew in puffs of righteous fury as if I really had some nerve to be standing there. I remember trying to smile because I wanted to love her just in the moment between opportunity and the sudden melancholy of future despair. There was no means of imagining a future for us, I was old- she so young that only those who would declare us both perverse could find it in the tiny chilled hearts not to utter some disparaging words like the unwished for curse as if that would somehow clear the matter or even the air. I know she looked at my lack of taste in clothing and then with just something like a trace of a gentle sneer moved forward to dismiss me from her path and exile me to fall in with the rest of the world that she would reject out the mock casualness of someone too often hurt by the cruelty that comes from passion and fear. For some reason, I cannot begin to fathom even in seconds of fragile lucidity I reached out and softly touched her hair. She froze like the cliched deer caught in the nude in the headlights of some pervs imagine to mouth "Oh shit" unmoving in her desire for flight in a moment when against all reason of defiance she did, in fact, find some miniscule reason to believe that I could be so bold- that I would even dare.
She said nothing as she reached up to my hand as if to strike it from her presence like some tentacle of disease before it could infect the space that surrounded her face. But she just brushed the lock back into it's designated place. Her hand collided with my own as if by accident and the contact stopped time, as if the science of this crumbling spot of concrete could no longer stand to hold our collective feet. My heart slammed into my ribs as our fingers crossed and i want for the touch to last for the rest of the day, for the rest of my life in the minute or so to transfer the body's heat. Her eyes went wide at the moment when her lips unpainted push her grimace back in search of an impish grin. our pupils met with such force that my breath sucked itself back into my lungs and then she spoke the only words that I could remember to this moment when I could write them down in digits of ecstatic tappings- she said 'For the Win." Then our hands grasped hands. We breathed as one. Science lost meaning and our thoughts spun away like scattered things fleeting. Such was the impact our our two hands at this meeting. I wanted to say something profound as my brain started screaming some words that failed to articulate what we both must have been dreaming. Then her hand slipped away as our shoulders bumped me back onto the crumbling ruin of the city's scene and i whirled to face her smile fading away like the lasting echoes of the now forgotten words I wanted to speak as if I could not begin to say as if the die had been cast or the ballot not even dropped in for a vote.
As I said before and will write it down for all to read. It was so fast there was no time for it to be even a story. It wasn't something I can declare for what it was. There's no anecdote.
I met her on the subway or maybe it was the noonday train? It was mostly sunny that morning, that is to say that as far as the cloud cover went it wasn't likely to be spoiled by the apparent lack of rain. There was some flowers growing wildly from a crack in the sidewalk, her shoes were scuffed from running, her socks were white matching the graffiti on the walls behind that were marked with messages written in chalk.
Did I remember her smile, her lack of feminine shape, the old coat she had slung over one shoulder or the way her hair caught it the reluctant breeze of the street? How is it that you remember that she was flat chested or narrow hipped or had all her teeth, but not the color of her eyes as she glared up at my surprise that I would be fortunate again to find her down there to meet?
It is really only happenstance that make it feel like the Russian roulette equivalent to the randomness of chance that I would think to take down anything on note.
You see I was there. I did not really think I would find that she would care. As I said before there really is no story here, just a matter of the lack of it- there's no anecdote.
She glared up through the bangs of her brown hair that I could almost imagine she blew in puffs of righteous fury as if I really had some nerve to be standing there. I remember trying to smile because I wanted to love her just in the moment between opportunity and the sudden melancholy of future despair. There was no means of imagining a future for us, I was old- she so young that only those who would declare us both perverse could find it in the tiny chilled hearts not to utter some disparaging words like the unwished for curse as if that would somehow clear the matter or even the air. I know she looked at my lack of taste in clothing and then with just something like a trace of a gentle sneer moved forward to dismiss me from her path and exile me to fall in with the rest of the world that she would reject out the mock casualness of someone too often hurt by the cruelty that comes from passion and fear. For some reason, I cannot begin to fathom even in seconds of fragile lucidity I reached out and softly touched her hair. She froze like the cliched deer caught in the nude in the headlights of some pervs imagine to mouth "Oh shit" unmoving in her desire for flight in a moment when against all reason of defiance she did, in fact, find some miniscule reason to believe that I could be so bold- that I would even dare.
She said nothing as she reached up to my hand as if to strike it from her presence like some tentacle of disease before it could infect the space that surrounded her face. But she just brushed the lock back into it's designated place. Her hand collided with my own as if by accident and the contact stopped time, as if the science of this crumbling spot of concrete could no longer stand to hold our collective feet. My heart slammed into my ribs as our fingers crossed and i want for the touch to last for the rest of the day, for the rest of my life in the minute or so to transfer the body's heat. Her eyes went wide at the moment when her lips unpainted push her grimace back in search of an impish grin. our pupils met with such force that my breath sucked itself back into my lungs and then she spoke the only words that I could remember to this moment when I could write them down in digits of ecstatic tappings- she said 'For the Win." Then our hands grasped hands. We breathed as one. Science lost meaning and our thoughts spun away like scattered things fleeting. Such was the impact our our two hands at this meeting. I wanted to say something profound as my brain started screaming some words that failed to articulate what we both must have been dreaming. Then her hand slipped away as our shoulders bumped me back onto the crumbling ruin of the city's scene and i whirled to face her smile fading away like the lasting echoes of the now forgotten words I wanted to speak as if I could not begin to say as if the die had been cast or the ballot not even dropped in for a vote.
As I said before and will write it down for all to read. It was so fast there was no time for it to be even a story. It wasn't something I can declare for what it was. There's no anecdote.
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