Saturday, 25 April 2015

Journal # 04.25.15

I saw you in the rain. Your eyes were tired, and the train far above our heads under this matrix of Chicago downtown loop metallics, weary following the rails. Your eyes were vital. The tired was actually around them, not in them. Not of them. Your eyes were fresh from canvas oils passionate kissing the canvas off the lashes of the brush. Sparks fell from the rails and evaporated in the heavy shadows of high rises. My pulse quickened. I had not seen you in so long. I had been tethered to one special coffeehouse where they served home roast Papa New Guinea in imperial pints. Your eyes saw mine and both of us fell out of the urban grind like a shot of cool almond milk dousing the fire of a bitter brew. Two hours and three minutes ago I screamed fuck you at a cab almost ran me down in a crosswalk. Then went on my way. People are half asleep. We wake one another up, in the city. Moment to moment. We express ourselves. I have a typewritten page of fresh madness for you, my love. My friend. Come here so we can embrace. You are the creation I am. Everthing here will be gone, and yet the shadows of the high rises will thicken over time. I like how we still get the fresh air from Lake Michigan. It's a goddamn ocean it's so large! Hallelujah. Some young hoodie bumped into you as he weaved his way down a busy thoroughfare, rush hour, and he spun you around and then elbowed his way through a couple corporate fobs. That was ten minutes and ten seconds ago. You dialed up a beautiful you won't make it in time, asshole! and saw the hood turn ever so slightly back so you caught a profile. One eye glaring back. Just before a briefcase came crashing into his back. I know you. Brilliant because you photoshopped the instant in your mind and will have that hood, that eye, splashed into your work someday, maybe today a quick sketch. Nine minutes ago. As we traveled toward one another, block to block. City life. Love and hate. Awaken the sleepy heads. Watch all the people come together and amalgamate and mate. Oh it feels good to hold you. Our hearts beat alike.