"Birds are so free. They can be on land and up there." She's pointing to the sky with her cigarette and her eyes are barely focusing. This is not the first time I've seen her this way, and I know it won't be my last- but I recognize her point.
"That's why I keep feathers around me all the time; I envy their ability. I want to be that free." In that moment I was bound to the bar, my drunk friend sitting at it and the prospects of spending some time with the gentleman serving us.
Three of the six recessed lights of my room have shut themselves off and he asks if this is a normal thing. I explain that the prior tenant probably installed the lights from the original, singular light source- straining it's power source, causing this to happen. It's somewhere late in the night and he's watching me from my recliner. I pull my typewriter to my bed and begin to record a bit of our conversation onto a postcard. When I finish, I pin it to my wall. I can tell he's comfortable here and it almost feels like he's the first. I have no expectations; I feel really beautiful in front of him. Actually, I've just felt really beautiful in general lately, which is probably how I landed myself in this moment at all.
.xx.
No comments:
Post a Comment