Sometimes you tell yourself that it is all good. Sometimes he would say it is all good and I would gauge and sometimes I would swallow it down and sometimes it would burst out of me like an old rusty water pipe bursts in march in millions of post-soviet homes in Russia. I would snap, No It Isn't. It Isn't And You Know It. Oh Man.
And then I would apologize and say, Oh My God I Am Sorry, You Know, It Actually Is All Good; good.
There is another thing, that hasn't to do with anything 'goodie-good-good'. That's when it genuinly is good, you know, when you feel it deep down inside. Just by one glance. Good at first sight I would say. That happens to, not only to love.
Thus it was yesterday. I saw him, like a mirage of my miriads of day-dream illusions, sitting in front of my door. Exactly how I imagined him. Just this time I came from the other side, from where the elevator is and not from the hallway. He was sitting there, just waiting and I should have known, I knew it, matter of factly but as so often in life, it still comes as a surprise. Unexpected, the dangerously wishfully expected.
And it is always like this. It's as if life is upset and annoyed by your expectations and your manifestations and visualizations and what not. Life maybe thinks to itself: yeah, it will be exactly this way but it would never ever lead you onto it, quite in the contrary - it waits until you feel safe and disillusioned and then it jumps on you from behind. It's like turning the other cheek in the most of unexpected situations. It's like, now! Ha! Catch the ball if you can.
I caught it. I smiled at him and I said twice that night, good catch when he caught the water bottle once and another time something that I can't remember.
Of course we didn't quite know what to do, carefully staking out the grounds, carefully putting bottles to where they belong, trash into the trashcan, the guitar in his hands, some licks and melodies played just to find a way of how to be. Finally.
So there he was, and I gave him a real long hug but we weren't so sure.
And it was Good At First Sight.
I looked at him, as he sat on the bed that I had cried on so many nights, leaning against the wall thay I banged my head against in desperate attempts to silence the pain within. Externalize what is too much inside of you. Externalize it.
I saw his beloved face, the corner of his mouths which I love so most of all and his hair, not much different unexpectedly and his half smile and his amazing eyes, so deep and dark like velvet nights that I passed all alone here in this room, my refuge.
And as I looked at him it hit me with an overwhelming uninvited clarity: It Is All Good. Okay.
Actually it was one of our best nights. We didn't go all the way because he didn't want to but it was oh so pleasurable. Ah, Amazing and he tastes good now, now that he is healthier.
It actually went into a direction that I like, more so than ever, and I knew it could happen with him but I always knew that and the very fact that I say 'could' is in the same time the blank cheque for failure. Almost is just almost and could will always be could. And would.
I tried everything, and this despite the It Is All Good At First Sight.
I explained how I think that love can change faces and I realized last night that I could - could - and would - would - put up with exactly how and who he is: the Gypsy, coming back, in irregular intervalls, and be my lover. I would.
That's how much I love him and how he makes me feel and how it feels to pour myself into him and how his kiss and his loving touch feels. That's exactly the problem he said into the silence of my rattling thoughts: I am nobody's gypsy.
I looked at him, at a loss what to say and then I looked at him from the side, with my head cocked to one side: Nobody belongs to no one. And if you don't have yourself you can't give yourself i continued thinking.
Maybe it was so good because he already had made up his mind, for real. Friends. And thus making love was out of the question and impossible, although it didn't make quite a difference, I thought, whether we imitated it in the most heated possible ways or really go down that road. But for him it did and maybe it was more sexual than loving and maybe that's why it was so good. Yes, yes, I like it rough at times.
But rough is what is this It Is All Good At First Sight is all about. For me and now.
And I might not like it so much after all. I will have to find someone else at some point. Who can take me down that road that he desperately attempted to take me down and he released me before he could bring me down.
It just seems so far beyond all of my horizons, for how could I ever, ever? Find someone to open up as I opened right there and then...Oh scratch that. Let's say it as it is: Someone to love. Like you.
Good Bye, and do you understand now, finally, how it is. We can still live our lives together and walk down the path together, we just won't be holding hands, he said, and laughed a little bit, if you understand what I mean with this image.
I chuckled softly and said yes I do.
Because I do.
I just tried to outline all the other possibilities we could have but he was very straight about it, in the morning, after the night and said, no, you see, I can't do that. If I can't take care of you as I did, we can't be physical. We will meet and have a blast, a whopping good time, but that's it.
A good bye hug, I naturally hugged a little longer, clutched onto him like I was trying to prove something, oh but it is alright.
He made me feel good last night. And it was all good, that we had this last time feeling good in those ways.
And It Is All Good and Alright.
So can I leave now, he asked, and you won't cry?
Yeah I said, gazing indetermined into the distance, I guess so. I have tried.
When he left he drove away and this image burnt itself into my heart or maybe it's my brain.
There he goes, once again, yes this boy is driving me insane.
Tears welled up and with a tiny voice I called Amanda and said, it's all done now, I survived, it's all good now and I ll be alright - but can I see you?
A single salt water drop in free fall through the soft Californian autumn air. And when it touched the ground it made a small little splashing sound.
I caught myself thinking that this might be how freedom might sound like
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and,... and, they stole my second bike too now, the second bike in two days. there is just nothing you can do about that kind of things, you know. you had it, you lost it, you gotta trust your eyes. It - ISN'T -There - Anymore. It just isn't. You are still free to go whereever, however. Just without. You know. Without.
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