I Was Never A Man

Without Memories To Cloud It, The Mind Perceives With Absolute Clarity. Each Observation Stands Out In Stark Relief. In The Beginning, When There's Not Yet A Smudge, The Slate Still Blank, There Is Only The Present Moment: Each Vital Detail, Shocked Color, The Fall Of Light. Like Film Stills. The Mind Relentlessly Open To The World, Deeply Impressed, Even Hurt By It: Not Yet Gauzed By Memory.

How Was It Possible To Wake Up Every Day And Be Recognizable To Another When So Often One Was Barely Recognizable To Oneself?

The Truth Was I'd Given Up Waiting Long Ago. The Moment Had Passed, The Door Between The Lives We Could Have Led And The Lives We Led Had Shut In Our Faces. Or Better To Say, In My Face. Grammar Of My Life: As A Rule Of Thumb, Wherever There Appears A Plural, Correct For Singular. Should I Ever Let Slip A Royal We, Put Me Out Of My Misery With A Swift Blow To The Head.

Alone In My Room, Wrapped In A Blanket, I Whimpered And Talked Aloud To Myself, Recalling The Lost Glory Of My Youth When I Considered Myself, And Was Considered By Others, A Bright And Capable Person. It Seemed That Was All Gone Now.

Maybe The First Time You Saw Her You Were Ten. She Was Standing In The Sun Scratching Her Legs. Or Tracing Letters In The Dirt With A Stick. Her Hair Was Being Pulled. Or She Was Pulling Someone's Hair. And A Part Of You Was Drawn To Her, And A Part Of You Resisted--wanting To Ride Off On Your Bicycle, Kick A Stone, Remain Uncomplicated. In The Same Breath You Felt The Strength Of A Man, And A Self-pity That Made You Feel Small And Hurt. Part Of You Thought: Please Don't Look At Me. If You Don't, I Can Still Turn Away. And Part Of You Thought: Look At Me.