He signed the contract with a swooping stroke of his pen.
“There,” he spat, angry furrow deepening between his brows. “Are you happy now?”
Signed, sealed, delivered, I’m yours?
I don’t like to think of anything I write as definitive, as the final say on anything that binds it to me and marks it as standing truth. I don’t think any signature can be true always, that any promise goes without an expiry date. The earth is waiting to quake, possibility dueling improbability through every ink splotch on papyrus; I, I meaning us all, can’t know what our hearts will entice our minds to trigger our bodies to fall into tomorrow, because of or against the path of our souls.
She sighed her name at the bottom in a single flourish. “There. We done?” she asked, shoving the document away from her as though it’s very existence annoyed her.
Jackson sighed but nodded. “Yeah, we’re done for now.” he said as he began gathering the rest of the papers together, readying them for the safe return to his briefcase.
“Good, I was getting bored.” she declared before standing and moving towards the door. “‘Sides, I got places ta be, ya know?”
He sighed again, louder this time. “Tasha, a word of advice?”
She looked back at him. “What else am I payin’ ya for?” she asked wryly.
He laughed. “I’m saying this as your friend AND as your lawyer.” he began. “Just…try not to get married again before the week’s out, huh?”
She flashed him a smile that was all sexuality and dimples. “No promises, Jackie-boy.” she said, turning back. “No promises.”
The shock sucked the oxygen from her airstream. She had no idea he would say yes. Her body began shaking, both ecstatic and panicked at the same time. Revealing an aspect of her true self was risky. What if he balked, laughed, ran? Would it alter their relationship forever? Would they grow closer on the level of intimacy she had always longed for but had never experienced in real life before? Or would this moment end ‘them’ for once and for all? The moment of truth was at hand.
The earth cracked beneath our feet, emitting a thin, powerful airstream hot enough to scald our skin.
The airstream was fierce, whipping her hair around and causing it to furl behind her in a wave of crimson.
“Can’t we put the damned top up?” she yells over the sound of the rushing wind, making the driver laugh, throwing her head back dangerously far to reveal the pale column of her throat to the last drops of the evening sun.
“Where’s the fun in that?” comes her reply, her voice breathless from laughter.
The cool amber liquid was slowly poured into the mould,
Shaping the city that it was to become.
There’s something fiery and bitter about this city,
With just a touch of sweetness.
The gods had a hard time holding their liquor,
And that’s when the citizens took over.
She opened first one eye and then the other. It had been a long flight. where was she this morning? Or was it afternoon? Heidi had no idea what time of day it was. Groggily she got out of bed, stumbled to the window, opened the heavy drapes and there it was. The Manhattan skyline.
I was lost on the winding intestinal tract of the the streets of Manhattan, wandering aimlessly for most of the night.
The tender glow of sunlight broke through the city air
Massaging tired shoulders, wounding with its glare
Words dealt by a stranger, given with a gentle heart
Not knowing that they struck the mind like a target by a dart.
Some of the where’s I’ve been have taken my breath, and all have given me breath. New breath. Safe haven for my characteristics, these places I came and went from that I wasn’t left behind in, that left behind in me. I’ve never been to Manhattan, New York. I’ll never be desperate for what is inside me (waiting to be triggered by the searing bright of speed and violently impressive art).
Ugh. What a terrible topic for the day.
Mostly because I’m stuck in this riff (or maybe it’s actually a rift).
I feel lost in a cavern, but also lost in some repeated pattern that says the same words and sings the same sad notes over and over to my musical ear.
I guess something has to keep me grounded in myself.
Or perhaps I would simply float away.
If only, if only.
“C’mon, Manhattan would be a fun stop!”
“Manhattan is in the complete opposite direction of the one we are driving, you guys.”
“Then let’s hit it on the way back!”
“No, I don’t think you understand, we would literally have to PASS OUR STARTING POINT on the way back to go to Manhattan. It is the very definition of out of the way.”
“Enjolraaaaas, someone’s not being very adventurooouuuusssss!”
“I’m being /practical,/ we’re not going to fucking Manhattan! Maybe next summer.”
“You’re off your bloody rocker mate, turning over merchandise like this without testing the first hand,” he licked his broken lips. “I mean, how do we know it works?”
His hand snaked out towards her barely covered thigh, only to be halted when Seriph’s hand wrapped around his wrist, tight enough to ground the bones together.
“If you want to keep that hand, you’ll keep it to yourself,” she said, her voice even.
He ripped his hand back, cradling it to his chest. “Alright, alright. I won’t touch the girl. Scout’s honor,” he promised, offering her the mocking imitation of a salute.
“See that you don’t,” she said, turning her eyes back to the fire.
The hotel was smashed to a pulp.
As the door opened, nothing but dust escaped into the hallway.
The tattooed walls that led up to the room should have been the first clue
But when the doors opened, the magic escaped,
And all that was left was rubble.
The room was in pieces. The mantle was hanging by a few splinters of wood and the contents of every drawer were scattered across the floor. A stack of muddied, crumpled papers lay haphazardly on top of the upended rocker.
She had come in behind me. “My god, what happened in here?” She saw the papers and gave a piercing shriek. “My sketches!”
The rocker was beautiful. Dark wood curled and twisted and perfectly balanced in an enticing offer to rest and rock. The seat and back woven in a beautiful tanned display of laced beauty with the open spaces as decorative as the woven strips that frame then. Wooden smiles curved into engineering miracles to lull the smart soul that says yes into a embrace of simple movement and peace.
I do wonder as I sit here on my rocker, whether i could have done more in my life. And although I’ve always said, what would I do if I weren’t afraid, I was never able to work out what I was afraid of. My days are numbered now, I can feel it and
rounded like a door knob, then
sloped like a valley
ending at the trunk of a sapling
and if you dare to climb it
nestled in the leaves
among the birds and the blossoms
is the most terrifying thing:
the mind of man
He shouldered past me, the dark expression on his face more than enough to encourage the others not to follow.
“Is he alright?” Kelendra asked, her voice heavy with concern.
I shrugged. “He’ll be fine the second he dislodges that stick form his ass,” I assured, flashing her a smile that was equal parts sarcasm and disinterest.
She frowned. “How can you be so cruel? He’s your brother,”
“And he’s an ass – no one knows that better than me,” I said honestly.
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