we were children:
drenched in a world of basketball games, scrawny limbs, calling names, knee scabs and band-aids, treasure hunts, and make-believe worlds
Enthralled to be alive, curious about why cats hate dogs
and what it’s like to be married (married at 16 or married at 25?), have a job where
all you seem to do is type words and numbers on your laptop.
We were enthralled by music, by moving images of a teenage psychic
on a black-and-grey box
As if they were layers of a chocolate molten lava cake: a metaphor for life?
You were the vanilla ice cream topping of my grade-school soul.
carefully placing building blocks of feelings and memories (outgrowing legos), a vignette of thoughts and memories of passing on secrets, reading books, falling in love, a series of self-discoveries washing us from one ego to the next.
Cerebral quests, and still curious
about how people fall in love, or why they hate
jumping from one lover to the next, suspended between destinations, continents, fuming wafts of perfumes, paying rent and
having brunch, reading George Orwell and re-reading scripture
wondering who God is, and why we are alive
Still enthralled, but I forgot (about you?)
surrounded by nature, surrounded by newspapers and existentialism and art and the daunting prospect
of paying taxes and puffing up lists of accomplishments
We passed each other, we passed the time of day, we proceeded: I only attempted (from you?), convincing myself I succeeded.
I walk I dance I envy beautiful people I drink coffee schmear bagels lit nicotine sticks (invitation for death, they say: he RSVPd “yes”) I inhale fumes, perfumes, morning dew
and release an exhale heavy with
where do I go from here?
Copyright © Imana Gunawan