To Aid An

2006-10-31 - 10:01 a.m.

return from lovely

ghost again--working at not sleeping, then sleeping. Ony two days and lagged out. I remember you there on the rock somewhere. I remember you in the spray. The little cottage where you lived and witnessed the rocking of the boats. I remember you in the quiet of that afternoon, as it turned to evening then dark. You were in the emptiness of the streets in Lunenburg on my first visit--the no-one-till-the-waitress day I breathed quietly in silent prayer. If only I could see you more than remember you here, I would notice you clearly in this now.
I can gather you here in the swell of the chorus of typed keys and voices choughing out chatter sounds. I could feel you in the wind dripping off my face on the stairs. I smoked a dirty dream half way, after a half-finished, in-class-essay-make-up. Maybe it is just that I see you more clearly in the faces with eyes that do more than acquaint mine--truer in the eyes of befrienders, accepters, lovers, welcomers; who we flow together with becoming glowing singularity, who we return to from our adventures to share with, and share smiles.

Maybe I am seeing that seperation from studies can be healthy for the soul, but I have yet to see it be healthy for the studies--aahh, Halifax ... you were a love birthed to behold, but I will not concede to your welcome just yet, I must find an end to this yearning to become the unbecomable. I will not suffer the school you offer. I need to be comfortable with where I am going before I go to you again.

Yours - Tristan

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