I wanted to start over. There was this big emptiness I lived in. It reminded me of several absences at once. Like they were all together in something.
Susan was tangential, a freckled inference. She was a tool kit and a siren. She was angry little disturbances of rain exclaiming in the wind. She was a reminder of inconsequential behavior from the clouds. She was lost and wet and looking for me. She was a city kid out of gas on a lonely country road. Her darkness was about to find her.
So what do you think she did with all that space?
You have to understand it’s not easy to live in somebody else’s nowhere. I would prefer a little chopping block romance to her vacant landscape stare. No campaign, but a sudden violent election of unrequited desire and awakened need. The President of the Immediate ousted by The Dictator of the Appropriated Moment, shifting countries at war with their own separations, borders erased before the first command.
And then it’s raining harder. You can’t even stick your head out of the coffin you built, the hole you live in filling up with muddy water like that. Susan carried off. Susan unexpectedly predictable as she floated down the river. All the rebellious signs and none of the results. Susan ineffectual. Susan departing gritty and buoyant.
Meanwhile torch carrier for the conflicted sisterhood Claire Voyance (her real name) struggled with the peanut butter lid. She won but there were casualties. She predicted a tasty little sandwich. She predicted a glass of orange juice. She predicted satisfying children, but you can’t get everything right, now can you? And she was, after all, a very new girlfriend and didn’t understand my needs yet and therefore could not so easily refuse them.
I’ll admit it wasn’t the world I intended to create, but after a while, I rested.
Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2013 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily: Burrow Guide.