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It was mostly peaceful, chaotic
But mostly peaceful chaos.
I took my shoes off.
I got ready with how I was feeling.
I ate the apple,
And lost myself to paradise.
But the thing they don't tell you
Is that it's your body that leaves your soul,
Not the other way round.
You can literally feel your heart stop beating
And it's not
It's not even that strange
You know what's going to happen
But you aren't angry that you do know
And in fact the fact that you do know
Gives you some secret feeling of bliss
And it's not, in any way, diminished,
When that thing that you know is going to happen
Does eventually happen.
That's how I felt.
I felt happy,
In a secret way
Naked obviously,
Angry that I could hear voices
But really,
I was at peace with everything
Just me and my slowly slowing heart
And a crowd of faces asking me for my name
And what the date was
And whether or not we were in a time of national crisis.
I don't know, kindness is so strange
Ashamed doesn't really capture the feeling
You know
How it felt to be in front of them like that
Blinking like a cat who just found out
The mouse he's been trying to kill for the last ten years
Just ate his last piece of cheese
The only strange thing was that I could see
Anything at all, let alone their faces
I definitely wasn't supposed to be seeing anything
Dimitri had promised me I wouldn't.
I felt very very cold.
It gets cold up there in the winter.
Even colder if you've got nothing on.
I remember saying that I hadn't taken much
Which was a lie, of course.
They were all looking at me
Like I was the perfect example
Of everything that was wrong with men in general
And my generation in particular
Why was the first thing I said
When I came back an incredibly obvious lie?
I guess that says a lot about me doesn't it.
God it was miserable.
I remember them asking me if I had anywhere to stay,
And me pausing for way too long
While knowing that the answer was obviously no
And then saying no,
And how terribly quiet they all got standing there
Staring at me
On that very cold winter morning
This one goes out to the concept of luck,
That pure blind luck
That makes the womens netball team
Walk back a different route around the meadows,
A route that takes them past whatever I was at that point,
That kind of luck.
Monica brought that fact up to me, later,
While I was lying in her bed,
Trying to figure out
If there was a way to intercept the suicide notes
I had mailed to ten different international news media conglomerates.
She said, a little too triumphantly I think
That if she hadn't ordered that eighth round of shots
Then they would have left early and I wouldn't have been there
And that if she hadn't decided,
In her
As I was soon to discover,
Classically whimsical way, to lead the gang
After that eighth round of shots back around a different way
Just because she felt like it,
Then she wouldn't have found me at all.
She found that that was all very relevant.
So do I, I guess
When we slept together that night, for the first time,
I saw stars.
It was beautiful
So yeah,
This one goes out to luck
And drunk mad women...