hey, i have stories.

it doesn't matter that it's 6pm and i've got a caffeine buzz and bob dylan has been shaking the walls of my room for an hour.  it doesn't matter that it's so hot and not the kind that makes you sweat but the kind that sits under skin like an extra layer of hate or lust or guilt and tugs at your senses like a kid that wants a lollipop.

three days ago i used the word reprieve in a car service talking to the driver about the heat. "there's just no," and three dots past, "reprieve," i said.  he paused and made a noise like a backwards explanation point and said that it was the perfect word to use and i think he was surprised to hear it, the word, for some reason and i can't stop thinking about it, those three minutes out of a twenty four hour day, three days later.

three days ago i saw a segment on the news about wild wolves. there were warnings, the word dangerous was used more than once but residents of the area were asked not to shoot the animal themselves but rather to call the authorities to do it for them. the female newscasters voice was like a headache on it's way, like a warning about war. please, i thought. the wolves. bon iver sings "solace my game - it stars you" and i think the wild things are a threat because they reminds you specifically of love.

three days ago you said "your eyes are hazel tonight" and i would be lying if i said it didn't break my heart that they weren't ever hazel for you before, or always. it's a pretty word, hazel. i looked it up and came across a question someone had posed, they wanted to know if hazel was a color, they were questioning it's existence, it's absoluteness.
the answer they were given i read over and over, sitting indian style, the heat under my skin still whispering. "hazel is like saying "rainbow" is a color. hazel's rainbow is of the color spectrum from light brown to green to yellow to blue and various shades of these colors in between."  this was a home run right through the everyday buzzes of my brain, a fly ball right from my heart.
i guess it hurt when you said it because this is how i want you to love me, from light brown to green to yellow to blue. i guess it hurt because kerry is like saying the sky is a person, like it has insides and can love and be loved in return.
three days ago the moon called me up on my cell phone, it vibrated like the end of the world and it asked me to call it sun not as in fathers but as in that light, i close my eyes. there are so many different kinds of light & everything shines, unless it is buried.
what i mean is just dig me up.


rollerfink said...

three is the magic number. this poem is awesome to hi-fi to gordon to joey lawrence saying "whoah" and various shades of these descriptors in between. i should comment on them all but the last few are also whoah(!)


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KERRY said...

thank you thank you thank you