Natalie's odd beautiful planet

i am holding my daughters little hand, it's lower than my arm can hold with ease... we are walking through the cold together when i see a form i hope is you, but it may be thinking wishful??? i pull up her hat, it's slipping, the wind is going to make her ears cold, like mine get when i don't have this gray toboggan. i know the form is you. i slow our steps, a little afraid, a little anticipation, the image of you is so strong in my head but it's just that- the quiet shape i see walking. you stop and say hello, on your way to somewhere you need to go, it could so easily be a passing gesture- but you stop, your feet turned toward me, mine towards you, like a square on the sidewalk, even my daughter, impatient and three years old, waits for you. we way hello, not 'how are you' but sentances like that. you have your hair kind of in place with something...on it, but it's still humble hair, it's not a form entirely separate from you, it's not all smooth and slicked over and neither are you. the hair on your face is soft, sparse, i admit to myself that i smile about it. i study your coat with my eyes, where their's pockets, where there's zippers, the collar, the name on the buttons, the hole burnt in the pocket, maybe from a cigarette? you're somking a cigarette, i look at it, maybe even stare, there may be gaps in the conversation, but i am listening, you don't expect it perfect, this isn't my chance to impress you, you don't need impressed anymore, it's just me in my coat, this gray toboggan, my jeans, my shoes, holding the hand of this little girl who keeps taking off her yellow boots and she tells you about a paper doughnut she made in daycare and iced with green sparkly paint, and it's just you, a little taller than me, in two shirts, one white, one red, with a cigarette in your hand and the wind blowing the smoke just a little towards my face and mostly (mostly) just making us cold, and your hand looking a little dry, and kinda soft, and bigger than my hand.

i look with you, in the direction you motion, at the person you're saying something about- as just a little form on the hill, i won't remember his face, just a person in passing... but you're stopping for me, looking at me, and there's nothing that needs to be said except the implied 'i know you now'
i finally know you and you're my friend, this feels good to me.

it's after 5:00, you need to be somewhere by 6- i know this. i reach for your other hand and hold it a moment, our fingers intertwined, i lean my head on the shoulder of your coat for half a second, and then begin a step in the direction away from you, i turn to look at you and you are smiling. you're not the kind of guy who smiles for fun. i know you mean it. it's beautiful. it melts me. i feel all glow-ie. i feel all precious inside, something good happened, it really did, something beautiful. and i know who you are. you can be gentle, kind, sweet, obnoxious, sometimes a bit of an ass, sometimes you overlook me- but not as much lately (mostly)

i know you when something good happens, i know you when a whole bunch of not good things do and they pile up and threaten to strangle (me and not to mention)you, i know you so upset and hurt you can barely speak and i can feel your heart beat fast just by leaning my head on your arm and my words are powerless little things that can't do anything cause i'm not the right person, i know you loud, talking, ranting, defying everyone, i know you laughing.

and it's odd- in the middle of the day, the bright hectic middle of the day, when i see you, seperated from you by some of the space and flouresent light of a classroom, and i sit there hearing other people talk and occasionally throwing in something hellasiously important that they just happened to miss, and you sit there in a white t-shirt, jean, simple, a little tired, and i can see every detail of your face clearly if i choose to look, it's odd how i feel disapointed and crushed if i leave without talking to you,

it's odd all mixed with beautiful, cause i love you so much i can see what it is that is you, even when you're not there, in gray hazy almost-thoughts, in feelings, attitude and emotion, in little bits of things, trucks, songs, cigarettes, and the smoke that, just for you, i sometimes like to breathe...

and no, sometimes, i don't know you. you've disolved into something i almost can't describe, it's seeing something from so many possible angles it disolves into clear, it's just feeling, maybe yours, maybe my own. it's something intangible, taste, sleep, it's something i don't know, that maybe i'll have forever, when i'm thin and old and i've long since lost you, maybe i'll touch some soft, safe feeling that i learned from trusting you, that i learned from there being you.

Tue. Nov. 16,1999


i am holding my daughters little hand, it's lower than my arm can hold with ease... we are walking through the cold together when i see a form i hope is you, but it may be thinking wishful??? i pull up her hat, it's slipping, the wind is going to make her ears cold, like mine get when i don't have this gray toboggan. i know the form is you. i slow our steps, a little afraid, a little anticipation, the image of you is so strong in my head but it's just that- the quiet shape i see walking. you stop and say hello, on your way to somewhere you need to go, it could so easily be a passing gesture- but you stop, your feet turned toward me, mine towards you, like a square on the sidewalk, even my daughter, impatient and three years old, waits for you. we way hello, not 'how are you' but sentances like that. you have your hair kind of in place with something...on it, but it's still humble hair, it's not a form entirely separate from you, it's not all smooth and slicked over and neither are you. the hair on your face is soft, sparse, i admit to myself that i smile about it. i study your coat with my eyes, where their's pockets, where there's zippers, the collar, the name on the buttons, the hole burnt in the pocket, maybe from a cigarette? you're somking a cigarette, i look at it, maybe even stare, there may be gaps in the conversation, but i am listening, you don't expect it perfect, this isn't my chance to impress you, you don't need impressed anymore, it's just me in my coat, this gray toboggan, my jeans, my shoes, holding the hand of this little girl who keeps taking off her yellow boots and she tells you about a paper doughnut she made in daycare and iced with green sparkly paint, and it's just you, a little taller than me, in two shirts, one white, one red, with a cigarette in your hand and the wind blowing the smoke just a little towards my face and mostly (mostly) just making us cold, and your hand looking a little dry, and kinda soft, and bigger than my hand. i look with you, in the direction you motion, at the person you're saying something about- as just a little form on the hill, i won't remember his face, just a person in passing... but you're stopping for me, looking at me, and there's nothing that needs to be said except the implied 'i know you now' i finally know you and you're my friend, this feels good to me. it's after 5:00, you need to be somewhere by 6- i know this. i reach for your other hand and hold it a moment, our fingers intertwined, i lean my head on the shoulder of your coat for half a second, and then begin a step in the direction away from you, i turn to look at you and you are smiling. you're not the kind of guy who smiles for fun. i know you mean it. it's beautiful. it melts me. i feel all glow-ie. i feel all precious inside, something good happened, it really did, something beautiful. and i know who you are. you can be gentle, kind, sweet, obnoxious, sometimes a bit of an ass, sometimes you overlook me- but not as much lately (mostly) i know you when something good happens, i know you when a whole bunch of not good things do and they pile up and threaten to strangle (me and not to mention)you, i know you so upset and hurt you can barely speak and i can feel your heart beat fast just by leaning my head on your arm and my words are powerless little things that can't do anything cause i'm not the right person, i know you loud, talking, ranting, defying everyone, i know you laughing. and it's odd- in the middle of the day, the bright hectic middle of the day, when i see you, seperated from you by some of the space and flouresent light of a classroom, and i sit there hearing other people talk and occasionally throwing in something hellasiously important that they just happened to miss, and you sit there in a white t-shirt, jean, simple, a little tired, and i can see every detail of your face clearly if i choose to look, it's odd how i feel disapointed and crushed if i leave without talking to you, it's odd all mixed with beautiful, cause i love you so much i can see what it is that is you, even when you're not there, in gray hazy almost-thoughts, in feelings, attitude and emotion, in little bits of things, trucks, songs, cigarettes, and the smoke that, just for you, i sometimes like to breathe... and no, sometimes, i don't know you. you've disolved into something i almost can't describe, it's seeing something from so many possible angles it disolves into clear, it's just feeling, maybe yours, maybe my own. it's something intangible, taste, sleep, it's something i don't know, that maybe i'll have forever, when i'm thin and old and i've long since lost you, maybe i'll touch some soft, safe feeling that i learned from trusting you, that i learned from there being you. Tue. Nov. 16,1999
	"can we live through February?" it is there somewhere between you being clever and making me smile it's there that i'd die for you i walked this path slowly skipping snow and muddy places to protect my shoes and breathed past anything else and i heard trees being tall and footprints made by cats� and i think i heard you turned to face you, black hood and cloak� i lifted them from your face to say you're something i haven't been able to deny it� we walked home and couldn't face each other with anything more than silence not having answers and held in the space by love of how much had been shared of our secrets by just staring� i sit back feeling like all i've said to you was far too loud, believe that? me too loud� for you? i've given away so much and you don't know it's there� all this trust forces me to do is die for you. -getty february 14,2000
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Website i've been sitting here longer than i wanted to be trying to choose a background that's beautiful color but not too intrusive to these words that get a song stuck in my head and as it plays there it feels a little sadness but mostly just closeness and love -tue. Nov. 30,1999