The fight that we began is something that could continue. And all you people who are a part of it can bear in it. I've left only a few of you here, and I hope that none will get it right. I'm so alone, at the beginning of the day, and I can't wait to see you, can't wait to begin again, can't wait to open the shutters and let the sun wake me up. I've dreamed of being in different places and now I think it's possible. Somebody will be able to cobble all this together. I just hope I'll have another opportunity to see you, to rake myself in, gather enough courage to say. I would never have begun if I didn't think we'd get this far, but the streets are all lined up for us, trees are on this side and that, and the avenue goes down that way, it was all planned out by a man, who knew women and had a mother and father and was a good guy I like to think, I just miss you, surrounded by so much stuff, and emblems, and pieces of the past discarded. It will be so good to see you finally, on the day when you fully arrive. I'll lean back and watch the commotion, watch you walk in, glowing with admiration, and I'll believe that maybe all the time thrust upon us isn't so bad after all. If only I could see you now. If only you were still here, skinny and perfect, and my friend from this day till that. I'd kiss your face hard, both cheeks, and bid the world disappear, to embrace you against the time, and serve as a bellwether, to be a likeness unto all those watching, and to be a hope for those in trouble. That morning long ago when I snuck down to McDonalds for breakfast and made it back before they changed the rules and later on in a different place outside the hotel someone hollered something at me and I guess that's what started it. You are so peculiar, and you're small and brilliant, and filled with the fragrances of time, and when I told you that lady, I do hope you'd write it down, deep furrowed, all I have, my shoes pointing this way, so you might disappear, and find me with a better outfit. The trouble for myself I've created, could ever hope to be undone, just with this wish - that you'll wash yourself with it, icily, and that you'll promise me we'll dance on that day, all of our hopes rubbed together, my dear sweet friend. I've got one more shot, one last shot and try, to feel so awkward and just be standing there, and to insist, for myself and you, that we'll be okay. That in this time the lengths will congratulate and forgive themselves, and that you'll grow for me, sweet bellwether, you'll only love if you have to, you'll only come on and leave right then, and all the air and spaces will vapid themselves, because this is it, this is all it, this is the way we have come.
Out of print
$12 per book. Add $1 per book for shipping and handling.
info@malikwilson.org