Cupidity | Prose

This was the piece I wrote and performed for Winterfat Presse's first reading(!), Moultings in honor of Lucille Clifton.

I was really excited for Valentine's Day this year just becasue I love the day of love! This Valentine's in ny was the first beautiful day of the year and it was truly such a gift. Everyone was outside and things felt soft and sweet.

I really wanted to write something creepy and disturbing so bad, but I honestly didn't have it in me currently, so I wrote something a little funny and romantic. This was also written a day before the reading (with a two week gestation period), but it wasn't bad. I did give up a lot of sleep but I paced it well and got it done. Letting go off it "being good" and worrying about outside perspective helped.

Okay. Enjoy.

Lovers are lawless. A terrain explored by many, yet still unmappable. Unconfined to the diplomatic expectations concretized by labels and conversations, (for better and for worse). Love is a matter strictly validated. In a world that defines “achievement” in dynamic motions: forward progress, backwards failure, love rejects projections of time linearity, opting instead for the fluidity of baseline pleasure principles. Psychological warfare some might suggest - this synergistic struggle of observation, intrigue, suggestion, dedication, experimentation between the brain and body.

Talk is cheap, actions feel good, money comes around, memories and fantasies are replayed. Only time fails to recur.

The binary of right and wrong cannot exist here. Instead, we figure between the notions of “being” and “have been”.

..ꨄ︎..

We’ve seen each other around. Not often enough to matter, but close enough to remember - in passing at a local bar or the park. I guess we have similar schedules.

On the hottest day of summer, I witnessed you fall in love on the corner of nostrand and bergen. You were on the jog you take every Sunday at noon.

The sight of your love slapped you, throwing sweat off your nose onto the elder crossing the street. What a reaction. Your love hasn’t noticed you yet. This absolute being, that looks as good as it smells, stands on the adjacent corner from you, unabashedly existing. Sure, you already ran down that street, but you choose to run back down it again for a chance with the future. A tango of sorts ensues as lover and beloved mismatch about the street. A passing moment, a flicker of glances. Fate slips from your fingers, proportional to relative distance, and you keep running . Your eyes follow your love as much as they can, displaying this dissonance between action and intention. Various emotions increase expending energy. You must have been full of all sorts of heat.

It’s been about a year or so since you’ve experienced this type of heat. I sat a seat away as you talked with a friend about your last bamboozlement. You told a tale of a happenstance romance. All the details of encountering nerves, touching… soft skin. You also talked about the pain and confusion that rained down afterwards. You could only sit with the ashes of what once was to reckon, even considered giving up on love. You’re only so young though. Bottling up grief emotions causes wrinkles and grey hairs. So your caring friend suggests jogging.

After that supernatural encounter on the sidewalk, hours of your day become incompatible with existing for yourself. The thinking is incessant. Constantly meditating about your love, hating your complacency, exploring reconnection, considering first times. It’s all too much. Distraction is a means for survival, as you would know, so you keep spending time outside. For yourself, of course. ther question: How entrenched is modernity?

Your luck culminated on a day that was so particularly lovely - filled with the fervent excitement that warm weather brings. Everyone is beautiful and happy. A blessing gifted to you by your one as it could only come from that who loves you back. You like the park because of its convivial nature. Public commons don’t truly exist anymore but you can only imagine this is what they would feel like. You’ve adjusted your demeanor a bit at the park. You often just sit. Maybe read a book or eavesdrop on the people next to you. Is it possible to unintentionally want to be watched? Selflessly showing yourself to the unknowing public.

The moment of revelation was lackluster. Nice weather bringing people to the park is not extraordinary. Random number generation so happens to increase the probability of another passing. Truly unceremoniously, remarkably normally, your love crosses in front your absent mind. A gasp of shock gets proximic looks and, to your felicity, a look, stare and pivot from your love. You won't blow it this time. Unlike the first sighting, in this reunion between lover and beloved, you both cease to separate. An alignment of particles in this moment in time, in which two strangers feel a unique sameness for one another.

A frantic whimsy overcomes you as dreams become reality. Your love remains with you, a choice of commitment. The certainty of your spiritual attraction turns you into a nature observer. Watchful and considerate as not to scare off the deer. You listen. You ask. You are investing, if not already invested. Gaps are kept between bodies, undoubtedly respectful, though curiosity percolates on the precipice of blossoming mixed flesh.

You take the hands of your beloved and raise them to your lips, gently trepidatious, so not to cause concern. Not quite a kiss, but the symbol of it. Who do you think you are? Struck by Venus herself to conduct this sickeningly delicate behavior. Actions always speak louder than words to your credit. You communicate. Your love understands. The collective is solidified. Reactions are not immediate as there is no need to be hasty on this miraculous evening overflowing with life - basking in the fullness of opportunity, perpetually prolonging the unwitnessable filmic reel of now. Sweet souvenirs.

The sunsets, circulating vigor from daytime sun bakers to nighttime park enjoyers. Concealing shadows bring intrigue. As much as you like to see you also enjoy not knowing. Brushes, hesitations, the light glinting from your beloved’s eyes catching into your own. Each breath, whisper, hm melting into the fiber of your muscles. Addictive.

There's a condition about moving the body intuitively, without fault or rejection, that surpasses language. That tender human-ness so often denied. That’s why you keep up jogging. This state of ecstasy is solely replicated through motion. Distinct to the physiological applications that words or drugs cannot suffice. In this moment, you feel that jog now. The achievement of this enlightened flow state that quiets the mind, automates to a tempo, and abandons all ego for the one-ness ambiance of each other.

When is the essence of lying with someone most valuable: in action or in memory? This value you have for your lover supersedes any expectation, experience or knowledge. It overwhelms you and you are joyous, victorious even. You are so utterly in love.

In the morning, sensations remain, but life often destroys delusion. Your love kisses goodbye and embraces you, wantingly. It wasn’t until a few days later when you noticed your missing $50 and 60 min deep tissue massage coupon. How long has it been gone? You, assuming you dropped it. Have you always been forgetful?

From then onwards, your love doesn’t appear again. No phone numbers were ever exchanged. Neither party wanted to cool the heat. You continue to take the same run every Sunday, holding extra consideration on the corner of nostrand and bergen, yet you receive nothing. Buying into your habits fails to increase your sighting chances. Gambler’s fallacy.

What happened? Where did it go wrong? You don’t have it in you to go through this again.

And so here we are back at that bar. One seat space between us as you talk to your friend about your latest bamboozlement.

✘