the outer rings of going "home" ... page two
with a pixie haircut, when she walked, she bobbed up and down like a rubber ducky in a bathtub that you just want to push underwater to see it squirm.
we had all the same friends, same former lovers, same tastes and smells, but truly, she was a mere reflection of me, opposite but the same. i was transformed by my loyalty to this friend who could not care less if i was in her life or not. somehow, to me, she always seemed happier when i was there. i suppose, i just never saw her when i wasn't.
but when her ring touched my unstable world, i quivered with expectations of late nights, empty cigarette packs, and long lists of wishes never granted. i would fly "home" just to see her, be a part of her wordy world.
smiling at each other across the room, we exchanged words and emotions that had built themselves into a delta over years of high school, middle school even. our eyes would connect, and sly grins just crept over our faces, universally giggling at the boys who would dare to talk to either one of us. when we were together, guys would slowly melt away in the middle of their lengthy flirts as they came to realize that we were interested in living, not dying.
walking next to her, i felt that eyes were longing to look at me, my body was my own and perfect, laughing made me attractive. she gave me a quiet confidence that was evident and productive.
on and off for ten years, we engaged in the game of "i hated you first." we fell in love together, destroyed ourselves together, and planned our dreams to the last detail together.
we broke up like a couple who didn't know who got the old pictures of better times. talking and walking through a bustling downtown denver ... "you just don't understand what makes me happy anymore."
