Notes From An Older Notebook: Overheard

"It would be so simple," he said, "if we could approach people we cared for without any past so we could see them without coloration." She looked at him, startled by his sincerity.

"But we can't," he continued. "Human memory is long, after all, it's what brings us together. It's what causes that peculiar tingling, sometimes when we first meet, like a faint but unmistakable brush of recognition--of what? A kindred spirit, perhaps. An aura of presentiment. It has many names. It exists, invisible but unquestioned for all that."

He paused. "Did you feel it when we first met? A spark from a flame?

"I'm afraid to trust you," She said.

Overheard in my head, Summer, 1999

Notes From An Older Notebook

What is love--what is the love between a man and a woman?
Precious and true--to grow from scratch.
Promises
Meeting
Testing
Seeing time for what it really is.
Is it what I see in movies?
In books
In the walking

In between tears I sense it.
Where is peace then?
It seems love is a disappearing act
Of visiting hearts
Of unrelated relationships

Toward the lighting of candles and tying of knots,
Or toward the quiet sleep and clasping of hands?

Thank you
Tonight
Tomorrow
'Til time slows down.

I think
The music will never have to stop.

24 January 2004

I ask you to look into a mirror.
You ask why and comb your hair.

I ask you to stop and breathe.
You smirk and run away.

I ask you to stop living a lie.
You continue with your slow death.