Sunday, December 16, 2007

Cynthia Trigg

I barely knew this girl.
She was short, freckled,
cute of body
and she was unstable,
of course the women that would
gravitate towards me were unstable
crazed in some unique way unto themselves
hoping for someone to figure them out
unwind them and string it back together
but first, to tolerate
to listen
and be there for the binges
for the cathartic, nearly daily
explosions of living.

I didn't know cynthia for long.
She would wear a grey hoodie about campus
sulking in a way
but angry too.
Something lurking there,
in the past:
Common malady really.
There are only so many
events that haunt young women like that
and she had one of them.
I never asked which, becasuse
you will always find out eventually,
when they are ready,
and you never really want them to be ready;
best they stay fun and crazy
small sideshows that take the mind off
introspection,
take the mind off
pointless, hard, victory free topics
that never cease to beat themselves about.

I knew her briefly,
I think I scared her away.
She realized I was farther crazed than
she understood, or wanted to.
She wanted to be pulled back
into the center crowd
pulled back into the warm
and moist light of the well understood.
I wanted to nail wings to my shoulders
and leap off buildings.
I wanted to push whatever would give
and to drink
all day
every day
while reading classics
and talking madly about them
deep into the night.
I was still looking, searching for the edge.

When I found her sitting on a stone ledge
6 feet above the ground
dangling her short little legs
looking out from under her hoodie
like a neglected idea, lost from parents
and home, lost from convention and
open to suggestion and new ways of thinking,
I knew she would follow me back
I knew she would
I could always spot that, it was a gift.
We were going different directions though,
but briefly happened to be in the same place,
for a moment.

I remember the color of her panties
her mood swings
and her easy offense
at finding a mathematical chart predicting her
behavior for the next few days.
I thought it showed my interest
and that she would recognize my genius
and embrace me,
"No one has ever thought about me so much!"
, but she just stared at it,
as if she just realized she was rubbing
up against an evil villain,
a completely dangerous lunatic,
or something so serious it would
take her away from herself.

She pealed back from me,
so quickly adhered, the broken,
and so quickly parted.

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