Birdhouse

I dream I am an inventor, though I wake myself saying, but I don’t have an inventor’s mind.  I am not being self depreciating, I really don’t have that kind of mind.  Is it wrong to think true of yourself, to say, I am not the best of everything, when you recognize and acknowledge your faults, your weaknesses, and your truth?  But those people in the future, who are trying to survive a reformation of the earth, they need me, they require my gifts of invention to solve their dilemma, what gift I ask?  What gift?  There is no gift.

I sit beside him on the granite washed rust with tannin in the water, the effervescent bubbles of the rapids tingling against our feet.  He hugs me with his big arm, telling me how much he loves me, and that if I ever need him he will be there for me.  He holds open doors for me, opens the door to the car, is the perfect gentleman.  He adores me.  I have missed you, I say.  It is good to be with you again.  I hug the off kilter birdhouse his lover has made close to me as I leave, and the tiny pink tea roses, his garden is astonishing, his house like a museum.  I will be back I say.  I hope I will be welcome.  I am not always perfect, but I love perfectly.

I ache with frustration, I want to fit in but I don’t always.  I tell him, I know you would choose her over me, you already have, I feel ugly and I feel nervous to be next to her.  You are beautiful he says to me, and I love you.  Later, as we eat dinner in our shorts and tshirts in a fancy restaurant, he says see we are fine in here dressed this way, we are not like a sow’s ear.  I laugh, I totally get that I say.  And frankly I am not interested in being a silk purse, they don’t hold much ammunition, what they make up for in beauty and fine quality, they lack in strength, and in sturdiness, they would be utterly useless in a zombie apocalypse.  And later still I see an old boyfriend, I tell him, I would choose you again, you were right for me and I knew it the third time I met you.  It just took you longer to realize it.  Annoyed I break from the parade and go to the bathroom, to the coffee shop and for a promenade on the dock.  I will not tell him I am irritated by his abandonment, but then he has a town full of pirates searching for me, and doesn’t leave my side again.  I made my feelings known without speaking.  There are a few dozen photos taken by strangers of me and me and him and all of us together.  My friends like you he says.  I smile and say nothing.

I hold my finger tip to my lips.  Shh I say to myself, tell no one.  The dates that gather are auspicious, and I am fearful of cursing myself.  Shh I say.  I walk through the cemetery looking for an old grave, my body always feels so heavy, I tell him, this may sound crazy but sometimes I wonder if it is psychic energy, why do I always feel this logyness when I pass between the stones.  Maybe he says you feel the spirits of the dead, no energy is lost it is just transferred from one form to another.  I turn and look at him, he looks at me with his green amber eyes, and chuckles, what he says.  Nothing I say.  Nothing at all.

 

 

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