Surely this cannot be the way. God only knows where we are. When I let you lead, I assumed you knew where we were going. At the very least, you should be able to navigate us when we’re not certain. But now we stand here paralysed with indecision. I suppose the only options are onward or back from whence we came. We cannot go back. This savage journey is not over. Who knows where it will lead us. Neither one of us it seems.

Let’s go on. I’ll relinquish my expectations and assumptions and unfulfilled desires. You asked for a partner tacitly and I obliged.

What are you running from? As if we’re on the lam. As if we are unwanted in our own homes. As if we can no longer show our faces in three states and myriad places. This road with its straight lines, straight even in its curves, symmetrical in all its undulations, precise parallel double yellow partitioning one side from another. Two yellow lines which never meet lest they become one. No braiding or overlapping. Distinct in tension or complete in unification.

This road is a constant reminder of my here-ness, the civilization which doesn’t agree with me, the dominion of man over his landscape. Why must we remain on this prescribed path? Turn here — go off this paved nightmare. No? I’ll trek on foot. There’s nothing for me on this open road. It’s a false sense of agency. Go as far as you would like on this path which has been tended, selected and certified safe by agencies and engineers aplenty. What could be more certain than safe passage on these arteries coursing through the country?

Ah, we wish to go far and fast. When will that end? So many questions for one who has given carte blanche to another. Thrilling to let someone else control for a while. Those kind of liberties lead me here to this barren wasteland, this isolated desert where I wonder how many chattle died, how many people arrived and departed in the same breath.

This is no stopping place. Won’t you go on? My demons are catching up. This body must stay in motion. Stand idle and thoughts cascade into my consciousness. Stillness is its own version of sensory deprivation. Won’t you move? Until you do, I’ll examine these rocks which crumble in my hand, these plants which crunch underfoot, this sign in its brilliant heat and guidance. No one passes for some time. Won’t you tell me what’s on your mind? But you need not explain and I need not ask. That’s the beauty of surrender. Decide for me, dear, I can’t bear to think for myself. Ah, yes. Let’s.

On Acquiescence

Don’t think. Feel. You know what you want. Sure, the moment has eclipsed you a dozen times before but you have me here now. I am ready. Meet my gaze. Follow my fingers up to my elbow, shoulder, clavicle, neck, jaw, lobe, canal, socket, iris, eye. Now, what do you see? Can you feel my wanton energy? Accept my cavalier disregard. Disrobe me here and now. Don't you dare? Who cares who comes by. This is what you've wanted for some time. Do you care? Take it, take it. Here, let me help. Good.

Now relax your grip, no fists. Unlock your ankles and lean in. Must I do everything? Prying you open, showing you what goes where. Can't I forget and let this wave wash me out to sea? No. I remember myself. I’m trapped in this body you clumsily handle, which you cannot handle. As if I’m your first. As if we're too pure. Our minds know what we want.

Try again, won't you? Go as slow as you please. Only don’t pull where one should push and be frank in your want. Take what is given, what is offered. Lest I misjudged. I see. This is all with me. I've polluted you with my fantasy. There, there, don't bemoan your innocence. I couldn't have been first to watch it go. Now it’s all undone. Look, neither one of us is burned. You've nary moved from your chair and I've remained here, watching, waiting to be released.

What’s that? Who goes there? You'll do. Come here and help me fasten my shoe. My ankle is aching and I won’t get too far. A lift? That'll do. Come take me by and we'll go off, us two. You live close by? Sure, let’s drop in and have a drop and drop off. After you.

On A Lisa

Rare to catch me with my guard down. A side of me hardly seen. I need you now more than ever. This fatigue surrounds me. My spirit is bagged down by this body. I can hardly stand. I sit. I wish to lie. I have four more hours, no six, and I cannot give in now. I cannot go away. My feet are smarting, friction and restriction in my too-tight sneakers. I want you, a warm wall. I want to be enveloped in your arms, inside your opened rib cage, affixed hard to your sternum. I want to absorb your stalwart strength.

Be strong for me. I can hardly take it. It’s quiet now. I’m in between. As I shuttle to what’s next I catch my breath I realize how tired I am I want your help I need someone else.

When weakened I accept your outstretched hand. I acquiesce and comply, I stop struggling and relax, going limp in your arms. I dissolve into you. Who are you when I am strong? I could have prevented this. I could optimize this. I could forget my need or fail to indulge in your compassion, your stymying embrace. You bring it all to a standstill.

Do you need me weak? Do you need to be needed? Do you want to be my medicine, my fixer, my balm to calm my every turn? How many years have I managed alone without you there? I’ve tried substitutes. They only get me through but I’d rather not sully you or my understanding of you. I will wait. I don’t need to expose myself, my neck outstretched, my wrists outward turned for everyone to see. I gird myself. I summon my own strength. I lean not on you. I indulge in the idea of your help, but you aren’t there. Not yet.

I want to be better together. I do not want your crutch. Together we make three. We do more than we can individually. Woe to the foe who stands before us. This union cannot quickly collapse. There is more. I need to hurt. I need to fight for myself. I must not forget strife. I cannot be saved from failure. Love cannot keep me forever. I cannot hide in your folds. I must cope on my own. I always have.

Perhaps you will learn to relax, to open yourself, to share weakness without atrophying, to confide without complaining, to draw near without clinging, to love as one and as two. You consider what you will do, but it has not come to pass. For now, you have today and your pulsating bones and your droopy eyes and easy smile. You have a heart which won’t quit. You have resolve somewhere. You found another store of energy — from the people of the world at large. From the kindness of strangers. It’s how you’ve managed thus far. You mustn’t forget this resource. They are a treasure, blessed in every way.

Never become weakened by another’s coddling. Never forget what it’s like to fight from within. Know what is true and wait for him. Together is better but you’ll do fine by your damn self. There’s a world of us, alone together. Love of a spouse is not promised. One still has to live. One must thrive regardless. Don’t hold your breath. Release. Relax.

On Moments Of Weakness

Something to remember me by. A token, an article, a work, an idea. A replica, living or not. An effigy. An obelisk. A charity. A deed, an endowment, a doll. A portrait on the wall. Two cufflinks, one watch, one bolo tie. Two cowboy boots, three pints of rye. A mask of my final resting face. A jet locket of my hair. A jardinière of organising remnants, a tree fuelled by my former possession. A gift of knowledge, a butterfly kiss, a dance at Bougival, two dozen ceremonial candlesticks. A set of glassware, a Turkish rug. A recipe for divinity, a tarnished cherub. A moving picture from a warm day. The peal of laughter by the ocean. An envelope, a letter, a poem, a pen.

On A Legacy

And I, a desert warrior, stand tall amongst the thorns, thistles and traps of my arid landscape. I, a survivor, ferociously husband resources essential to life. I contain water and trap moisture in every crevasse and divet. Watch the stream collect my molecules on its journey downwards, dispersing inorganic compounds to my basin below. Minerals which I need swirl in the eddy, collecting dust and losing moisture with every passing second. I lift the discus to my mouth and sustain myself. The thirst is never quenched, only abated.

I go on to find shelter, cocooned in the cracks of my crawl. Feel the pits of the wall crumble and fall, shattering to dust upon contact with the ground. Disintegration becomes you, yet you struggle to maintain, to stay as one. You go on.

I came across a lounging lizard, adaptively sleeping in well-shaded territory enclosed from three sides. A twin set of eggs buried beneath, he sleeps with one eye always steady, always aware. His raison d’être cannot be forsaken. Further on, signs of life remain dim. And I, a living being, forget any first purposes of food and rest and reproduction. I substitute my biological needs to satisfy my intellectual curiosities. Each vista looks more appealing than the next. There’s no time to rest, even as the sun climbs to its apex and emits her brilliant, benevolent rays upon all the land. This is her doing.

There was water here once — no more. Underneath she remains. Underground, she is safe. Coursing through the canals of the underbelly of the earth, she is sheltered from vaporization. Her fate is written across the surface of this cruel place. Ah yes, wait, a storm approaches. As sudden as the sun’s blaze began, her glory is capped by nacreous clouds filled with wonder. The sun’s indelible fixture in the sky has been obscured. Her home is not permanent. Her radiance not guaranteed. Her beauty, as it stands, is undiminished. Yet she takes center stage no more.

The earth welcomes this change, an unusual occurrence at midday. The animals perceive the change and seek shelter appropriately. The tumbleweeds amble aimlessly. The cacti gaze up expectantly. The lizard, alerted by the pending storm, stands at full sentry to shelter his brood. He knows instinctively what to do.

The first drop does not touch the ground. Insects return home and the land, once a haven of hibernation, is abuzz with activity. Heat lightning permeates the sky, an internal connection between brethren. They roll en masse over and across and around. They curve with the earth. They remove and obscure any other object from said sky. Another drop, this one hits rock and is immediately absorbed. At the precipice of the storm, I judge the wind and house myself in a three sided cave. I must see her downpour. I must witness this transformation. Why has she come? What does the underbelly seek? Should the two waters meet? Of course they are one. The illusion of separation clouds my vision. It begins.

Instantly the light brown of the world is gone. What was dust is pinioned to the ground. The plants rejoice in this unusual bounty. They wriggle out of their dry shells and shake off sediment blown from thousands of years ago. The water touches everything, eventually covering the entire landscape. A flood begins. My cave is inset. The one opening is elevated and I, a survivor, no survivalist, run to the mouth to retreat. I cannot. As the space slowly fills, the line between land and sea is blurred. I wonder as I bob how the earth washes its underbelly as well. As I swim in my desert pool, I mingle with the minerals and float with my rocks. Three sides are not enough.

On Desertion

To be clear, I am interested. Or I was. We haven’t really made efforts to see one another since the beginning of the month. Whatever may have been there is casually forgotten. I blame you not. I have trouble remembering your face. What you are apt to do. How you see with your eyes. Your diligent scrawl. Your attentive posture. Your familiar clothes, reliable layers, well-built shoes. The selection of reading material. Your boisterous laugh. Your resting face. The raven hair once messy, now tamed. The intellect I miss. Your gait — tall, confident, not arrogant. A sense of certainty about your place in life. I wonder what comes next for you. I wonder if you are sure. Without effort, it will not be me.

Must I fight for prime billing in your memory. How was my impression — did it leave an indelible mark? How have I become the hunter in this pursuit. And yet I do not care to wait. I am not the victim of circumstance. I am not the byproduct of another’s decision. I am not a consequence. I must try, and if I fail, let the blaze of glory shine on and on. I will not fear your rejection. I must trust my instinct.

Perhaps my senses are clouded and cannot interpret your non-verbal message. When my heart is involved romantically, my hopefulness tinges my lenses pink. Perhaps it is to give me confidence. This arena is not for sure things. You were never my sure thing, though I did and do admire you. Yet the bank of our relationship has run dry. One need make a deposit.

Why don’t we see one another and confirm or deny what may lie between us? For my sake. You may be unaffected. You may have a full roster. Yet for the brief time we spent together, I was elated. You catalyzed something within me. You restored my faith in men my age. You showed me another way of living, being and seeing. I hope to find you again soon. I don’t force anything upon you. You are whole and well and true.

On Someone New

Take me tonight. Let’s go far. Dealer’s choice. You’ve done well thus far. What we eat or drink don't concern me much. I'd rather think and be OK with you. Let us too follow our passion into the mountains. Let us journey to your countryside. You are the very best of us — it’s true. What say you?

Lead, won’t you? Oh yes, this is your strength. I surrender and welcome adventure. Show me your footholds and I'll follow through. Scale to the summit and then you wait for me as I scramble, first one foot, then the other.

Your outstretched hand is superfluous. Who helped you? The journey of a follower. Who is leading whom? Don't worry about power. You've tacitly agreed. This feels right and one person must lead. Ease away from the edge, first one foot, then two. Sit and wait and recollect. You aren't done yet.

The descent is worse than the climb. Some do not fall. Careful — watch how it's done. Easy, easy. Steady.

On The Move

I had no idea when I first met you. No clue as to the effect you would have upon me. No frame of reference for the wave of intense emotion you would bring out in me. But it wasn’t an illusion. At least I pray it wasn’t. No — I would stake my life upon it. It was true. Our actions because of it, or life’s circumstances, may have led us askew. But I knew.

There was ultimate truth, for a time at least. A pact we believed and honoured. Nothing was forbidden — nothing taboo. I thought I knew you. Not your body, although your eyes and smile are not lost on me. There is a charm, not discreet, which you emit. A know-it-all confidence when a stranger enters the room. Before that, I was there too. Whichever guard we wore throughout the day was laid to rest when it was us two. And so we continued.

The first severance came when the lie entered the room. A wedge driven between us over a simple mistake. It approached unforgivable. It sullied what I held pure. One flaw marred the ivory canvas. I did not hide my regret. The next: you began careening out of control and I witnessed a downfall. In hindsight, your destruction was mild and failed to hurt anyone but you (except one or two: your parents and those who knew you thru and thru). You warned me — a habit you had of recycling friends after a few years. I had hope I would withstand the temporal limit. I thought love was enough. How could someone so magnificent have any trouble with regular friends? But then —

You weren’t ordinary. Far from it. Your mind, extremely acute, could readily solve any number of problems. Your chosen profession is your autonomous decision. Perhaps it will serve you very well. There is nothing you cannot do — you must only select it and believe in it. Look how well you’ve filled out your chosen mold. It is not a testament to your innate passion for the work, but rather your diligence and determination. Who can stand in your way as you wield all of your power? No longer divided against yourself, you stand tall and firm. Carry on — .

After the initial fractures, my emotions got the best of me. I was straightened up as well, but always had a lingering doubt. Was I at fault? Could I have been clear? Not sure what I wanted from you. More, always more. It was not fair of me to ask. So I did not. In silence I smoldered while we lived our lives apart. Eventually it abated. Casual moments sometimes reignited unrequited ideas, but they were quelled by forced realities.

In a way, I was jealous of your finding an answer. A path. In another, I was saddened to see you go onto your own way. In yet another, I was sorry to see you forsake other options for this one. I defer to your agency and ideals. You know what is best for you.

When I saw you again, you were a grown man. You are important in the eyes of the world. Not in the “everyone is special” sense, but you command attention and respect. You have position and power. You have stature. I wonder how this plays for you.

I wish you divine joy and creature comforts and enduring satisfaction. I do not want you to fail. I only want you to be happy, to reconcile your place on this planet, to have a loving family, and to love wholeheartedly. Yours,

Dear John

Come down now, you’ve gone too far.
This job is not for you. This
mountain is tall and I, old and wizened
by circumstance, by mystery, by my mother’s
left hand, rebuke any attempt to be special.

Why do you remain above this plane?
There is nothing for you there. Just
the tired earth yielding beneath your
feet. The same vista from thousands of
years before. The same structures in the
distance.

You shun me but I will not give up. Let
your character show through this insolence.
Is this your final defiance? I encourage it.
Go on, then, the audience begs to see.
A natural ending.

selfcheckout