Tonite it is the sound of trumpets stirring my pot of longing. and i guess the crickets deserve some credit too. But it’s that horn with its proud whine that makes me stay in the car even after i park and turn the headlights off. Trumpets shoot through my center and vibrate in my throat. They dare me to walk away or walk towards a thing with my head high. Tonite trumpets tell me to nevermind the moon or the stars. Nevermind the rain. Lock the door, you are all mine tonite. Just me and the note that presses my longing out slow like a hot iron smoothing down a wrinkled pant leg from waist to ankle. Its rise that steps in to shine the black leather shoe back and forth and then ties the lace up in an elegant bow. The trumpet in my heart has a freshly pressed suit laid out on the bed for me with shoes on the carpet ready to slip on though i tuck myself naked under the covers.
Monthly Archives: September 2009
if i had to describe my heart at the moment it would be carole king‘s voice, full and flat watching rain outside the window, AM sound from an old transistor radio, yellow light like all the photos from the 70s. all inside my heart. maybe it’s because my girlfriend just got on a plane heading towards Guahan (commonly known as Guam) and a thirteen-hour time difference for the next month. it’s so strange how my mind calculates distance. we were already three time zones away from each other, but this added distance means something.
it means she is day while i am night. it means our relationship is more of the mind and heart than it is the body. it means i hear her voice in my head throughout the day keeping me company, drawing comfort and longing at the same time. at its best this is a good tension. it keeps me from becoming lazy in my thoughts of her. we imagine each other’s doings throughout the day and night and get pangs of destiny when we compare and realize we imagined right. it makes the sky, the sun, the moon an integral part of our love, the elements we share in our separation. i can watch the september moon waxing and know it watches her though she cannot see it in the day that she moves through. the winds become carrier pigeons of prayers and kisses that i send off from the palm of my hands.
and the best thing, i suppose, is that when we are apart like so much of the year, we each grow, we each fail and we each experience victory. not together. but not apart either. what kind of love can flourish in this separation you ask? solidarity. i can tell you that solidarity, the purest form of love i have only known before in flashes, i have learned to practice daily in this relationship, through this distance. there is no place to hide in this love, no shelter or retreat from growing. there is no dependency to tangle ourselves up in and forget our goals of self-determination. there is not a moment of luxury to take each other for granted. there is far-sighted vision to count each and every surrounding blessing, there is a dual mind and heart’s worth of imagining and bearing witness. there is a commitment to never forget each other, our homelands, our people. to always know when we will see each other again.
this is a strategy for the ache of distance, of missing and of struggle. to plot and scheme to always have something to look forward to. a constant light at the end of the tunnel. and so after two and a half years, over a year of which has been long distance, we are still in love.