There was once a time when I wondered to myself about girls.
There was once a time I wondered to myself about the world.
Once upon a time they were parallel, which was never peculiar.
And until once upon a time they became perpendicular.
Inexplicably so, I couldn’t define such a sight I beheld,
But when the time came, it was her hand that I held.
It was her eyes,
It was her lips,
It was her face,
It was her mind,
It was her body,
Mine was a disgrace.
I was fat,
I was ugly,
I was a joke.
If I’d escaped from Chernobyl,
People would understand the words that I spoke.
Once upon a rainy day, I distinctly recalled her, the parallel of my world,
No line she made intersected with mine except that I was a boy and she was a girl.
It was peculiar the way the words she said fell perpendicular,
When I realized she’d meant that I was her shining star,
Because what she said to me, the time she did so long ago,
Misaligned her river from the course of my flow.
She had to go,
She had to leave,
She told me with her arms around my sleeve,
She had to cry,
She questioned why,
She cursed all, the world but never me.
And so grimly I spoke with the remnants of a deadlock of our bodies,
To the night and the cold air, and particularly nobody,
That parallel be life and death,
Metaphors cease to give me rest,
And with a flask of whiskey,
A pocket dictionary,
And a pen and paper that lay lifeless before me,
*Originally written in 2010.
(c) Anachronic Works 2011