Minor Extremities (Vignette #2)
'the only way we know things are real is because they are beautiful or they hurt' - Deborah Nelson
He really likes this music. The enthusiasm is bursting, you just don't get it, you wish you could get it. There are some clever lyrics, but it's a pulsing terrible loud thrashing from the earphone under the long strand of your hair. The old man next to you is scowling. The seat on the tram smells like burnt toast. The kids across from you are poking each other in the ribs. Laughing, they squirm so naturally. So simply, it's sweet, the ease. You wish you could jump out of your body and become like them, like a snake sheds it's skin. Pull off this burden of discomfort as though you've just jumped from a diving board, and you're crashing into a pool, cherishing the moment when the temperature changes as you hit the water. The coolness of it, startling, terrible, brilliant, like an electric shock that comes out of nowhere. Like walking outside into a strong wind, being pushed along by the air with no other choice, almost falling over on the bridge even though there's nobody else around to push you. It's just the wind.
-
Walking in to buy a coffee, there's a guy with black jeans, tight but too baggy at the back because he doesn't have a bum, and he's got scruffy, black, mid length, and roughly cut hair. It's sticking out a bit. He's a bit frustrated, distracted, doesn't really want to be in the city. But he really needs this coffee. The hot water comes out very slowly, he watches the people outside, so many people. It makes him think of the night before. In a crowded room, people drunken and dancing. Someone he used to be closer to, very close, and this person was being caressed on the other side of that room, tenderly, friendly. And he watched, it was kind of nice to see, but filled with jealousy, appreciation, longing and hope all at once.
The milk comes out of the machine and it almost overflows.
A lady walks in behind him, she walks and kind of slants her body to the side, and he can't see it, but she turns around, a complete 360, then a 180, and looks at the fridges even though she doesn't want anything from the fridge. She's thinking of the scruffy black haired boy behind her, she hasn't felt so immediately attracted to someone in so long, it's so strange. It's kind of beautiful. He's putting the lid on the cup. It takes a while because he put the wrong size on first, he always does that kind of thing.
She's thinking of maybe saying something, but she doesn't really know what to say, the words all immediately dart into the bin of never to be used and not quite right, but who IS HE?
He gets the lid on, finally.
She looks at him, accidentally, in his green eyes. Hers are looking as though she's a bit confused or annoyed. It just happened like that. She's neither of those things. And he responds looking mostly unphased, maybe a bit curious, but he turns around and takes a whole bunch of coins out of his back pocket, hands some to the lady at the counter, and leaves the shop. He doesn't look back. She stands behind the coffee machine and doesn't press anything, looks up at the roof, down at the green straws, and is reminded of his eyes. She presses 'cappuccino'. Waits. Pays the lady very quickly, power walks around the streets nearby, there is no boy with baggy black pants in the crowd. She stops, decides to go where she's actually meant to be.
There's the rest of her day. There's a headache. There's the rest of the week.
-
So satisfying,
These strange things always tend to linger.
And people are still reading some horoscopes - to prepare for what's going to hurt? when the peaks will come? when the planets will shift again? what might be coming next?
There's the rest of your day. There's a mistake. There's the rest
He really likes this music. The enthusiasm is bursting, you just don't get it, you wish you could get it. There are some clever lyrics, but it's a pulsing terrible loud thrashing from the earphone under the long strand of your hair. The old man next to you is scowling. The seat on the tram smells like burnt toast. The kids across from you are poking each other in the ribs. Laughing, they squirm so naturally. So simply, it's sweet, the ease. You wish you could jump out of your body and become like them, like a snake sheds it's skin. Pull off this burden of discomfort as though you've just jumped from a diving board, and you're crashing into a pool, cherishing the moment when the temperature changes as you hit the water. The coolness of it, startling, terrible, brilliant, like an electric shock that comes out of nowhere. Like walking outside into a strong wind, being pushed along by the air with no other choice, almost falling over on the bridge even though there's nobody else around to push you. It's just the wind.
-
Walking in to buy a coffee, there's a guy with black jeans, tight but too baggy at the back because he doesn't have a bum, and he's got scruffy, black, mid length, and roughly cut hair. It's sticking out a bit. He's a bit frustrated, distracted, doesn't really want to be in the city. But he really needs this coffee. The hot water comes out very slowly, he watches the people outside, so many people. It makes him think of the night before. In a crowded room, people drunken and dancing. Someone he used to be closer to, very close, and this person was being caressed on the other side of that room, tenderly, friendly. And he watched, it was kind of nice to see, but filled with jealousy, appreciation, longing and hope all at once.
The milk comes out of the machine and it almost overflows.
A lady walks in behind him, she walks and kind of slants her body to the side, and he can't see it, but she turns around, a complete 360, then a 180, and looks at the fridges even though she doesn't want anything from the fridge. She's thinking of the scruffy black haired boy behind her, she hasn't felt so immediately attracted to someone in so long, it's so strange. It's kind of beautiful. He's putting the lid on the cup. It takes a while because he put the wrong size on first, he always does that kind of thing.
She's thinking of maybe saying something, but she doesn't really know what to say, the words all immediately dart into the bin of never to be used and not quite right, but who IS HE?
He gets the lid on, finally.
She looks at him, accidentally, in his green eyes. Hers are looking as though she's a bit confused or annoyed. It just happened like that. She's neither of those things. And he responds looking mostly unphased, maybe a bit curious, but he turns around and takes a whole bunch of coins out of his back pocket, hands some to the lady at the counter, and leaves the shop. He doesn't look back. She stands behind the coffee machine and doesn't press anything, looks up at the roof, down at the green straws, and is reminded of his eyes. She presses 'cappuccino'. Waits. Pays the lady very quickly, power walks around the streets nearby, there is no boy with baggy black pants in the crowd. She stops, decides to go where she's actually meant to be.
There's the rest of her day. There's a headache. There's the rest of the week.
-
So satisfying,
These strange things always tend to linger.
And people are still reading some horoscopes - to prepare for what's going to hurt? when the peaks will come? when the planets will shift again? what might be coming next?
There's the rest of your day. There's a mistake. There's the rest
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