The Moment of Impact


I was not flying but I felt like I was flying. I didn’t have wings, of course, but I was
flapping my arms to give myself the false impression that I could control what was
It could have been moving in the right direction, but it was the wrong answer to the
question we were afraid to ask.
So I asked it. I said, “Were we both unhappy at the same time?”
It was difficult to tell whom I was talking to.
I became silent. I was cold and blue and leaving. Slower than you can imagine.
Like a man witnessing a glacier.
I was quiet for a while but I was alive. Young. Very.
This was excited this was excited this was excited.
Very very young. A serious glow with no religious overtones.
But before she saw me this time I could see that she had been savoring her words.
She was torturing herself just like me.
Then she spoke and it didn’t really matter what she said. Except that she had to be
emotional about it. And wrong.
Of course I was outraged. I felt warm and satisfied because I was outraged and I
was flying and I was deeply involved in controlling that which cannot be controlled and I
was listening to her be wrong and I wanted to pick the feathers from her body, slowly.
It was a marvelous sick miracle.
It was the right direction and we were both unhappy. It was listening to us and that
was a miracle.
She was so wrong I could have married her. But I knew it could only be this way a
short time.
It was what I had been waiting for.

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 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.