by Jacob Beam
The lady of the night turned out to be quite the character in my story book of life. She was more than a lost soul, she was truly saving me. Her past lover had run off the road one night, ending his journey. But she wouldn’t stop going.
“I didn’t cry too much. That made me sad.” Discussing the funeral as we lay in the same position.
“You can cry now, if you’d like.” I had nothing else.
“Wouldn’t change anything now would it?” Bluntly.
“I suppose not.”
“Let’s move in together.”
“Let’s do it.” Finally, some excitement in my life.
She wore sun dresses on rainy days. She created umbrella patio artwork. She bore tattoos that I knew nothing of, just past life experiences that she would not discuss. No lids on her drinks. She only ate blue coconut snow cones. She was energetic and passionate. She was broken. She cried in the bathroom one night with the shower running but came out happy. She laughed at me sometimes, and would never tell me why. But every time she laughed she would call me over and hug me, kiss me, and hug me again.
I felt love. I never heard it, though. I never had to.
We dug up more roots of the earth and rode through the mountains.
“I’m flying right now.” She was staring and smiling.
“The sky is so beautiful.” I could not stop looking.
“What do you see?” She asked.
“Same.” She was mine and I was hers. “I want to know what the creator was thinking when all of this was made.”
“I thought it was a cess pool.” I parlayed.
“Come on now. Don’t be simple minded. Something had to construct this place. The rivers look like viens. Space is fucking wild. And you can’t tell me the chain of events creating ice cream originated in a pool of random bacteria. So fuck off.” I knew the buttons to press.
“I’m sorry. You’re right, there was a creator. He is a superior man. Common probably, but a viable option as a friend.” I didn’t want to have the talk.
“One day you’ll realize. One day you’ll believe in something.” She was frustrating at times.
“Fine.” An end to the arguing. An end to the journey.
I would win sometimes. She won mostly, though. The intensity of her living was original and refreshing.
Sometimes I wrote her poems. They didn’t express my love fully. They weren’t all love poems. She always gave me attitude when I laid the sappy shit on her. We both know now that love poems are no longer an asset to our relationship, regardless of my opinion on the matter. They acted as only a break of the continuous moment we were in and it was almost shameful to break the story. But she liked them all the same. So I kept writing them.
Voices run free in my mind, I get along.
They tell me stories of the past, of the now.
Seizing the moment I conjure up images of fun.
Conquering the fear that once was.
I move in.
I’m falling into the moment.
Left alone, freedom arrives with the silence.
The saving grace graces me.
Answers find me, I question them.
Once alive I float into the abyss that is my mind, I get lost.
Tales of life exploding colors, burdens of the everyday are now gone.
The breath rises from my mouth in the icy night.
Stars gaze down upon me, longing for more.
The lesson is in the journey that I take.
Limited scopes of the world cost what most don’t have.
Dreams close my eyes, I am lost in the journey
I wanted love and she was the truth in the word. I never wanted to stop loving her. I never would.
I received my education from The University of Texas-Tyler. I dig art, green tea and traveling. I live in Austin, Texas. I'm really enjoying the freedom from the terrifyingly backward thinking that only East Texas can bring.