I am...a New Yorker

[Previous entry: "Marching"]

Monday, October 28, 2002
Wishing You a Happy Day

You in a pair of leather jeans -- I never claimed my mind was entirely pure. They'd suit your pantherlike allure.

The sound of your voice, the beauty of your face.

We weren't so damn shy, hurt, and afraid.

That I could settle for less.

I were a "beautiful, little fool."

You know where the above quote comes from.

David Bowie on TV and realizing how like that you are -- a freak, an artist, an angel walking on the earth. Perhaps I'll find you once more -- in Berlin, with Nick Cave providing the soundtrack.

I am...remembering you on your birthday. How could I forget? I wish I was there to help you usher in another year, to watch you grow deeper into your self.

As I struggled all summer to keep up with or stumbled over others, I'm reminded of how we walked so easily in step. Once, you remembered I'd been limping for months and asked if I could walk down the stairs before walking that way. I never follow a man, but Central Park was your childhood playground. Who else would point out the horse with the hooch? I learned so much from you. I can't say that about many people.

You listened and said you were sorry when a friend treated me shabbily. How ironic that seems now.

I remember our conversations verbatim and not only because of my journalism training. It was such a short time and yet it seemed boundless -- the laughter, the depth of conversation, the comfort I felt with you.

What happened to that person? Thoughtful, bright but not competitive, kind, humorous. I miss him. I don't know who that other guy was. The one who walked away from me, who stood next to me in silence on the A train, who got off at my stop and never looked back. The one with a funny idea of what friendship means. The one who knows me but doesn't know me -- who stubbornly refused to see he knew me better than anyone.

Sometimes I do wish I could settle for the kind of men who pursue my body, my face -- but who ignore, disrespect or dismiss my mind. But such ridiculous thoughts are always fleeting and I remember what a more profound compliment it was when you said one of my ideas was brilliant or how close I felt to you when we got each other's quirky references. Even you noted the many things we appreciate and understand about one another that no one else does; I can't walk away from that as casually as you.

You saw me as so tough, but there's a tenderness deep within that you reached, melting away the hard ice that seemed to be my center. Only you ever managed this herculean task and I wonder how we found one another, in this huge city, on a tiny island, on this side of our crazy planet.

Life goes on and I always land on my feet, so I will be fine. Yet how I miss the wonder and beauty you brought to my world. I wish, too, that you could know the person I am now -- how different I am when I'm not getting yelled at, or worrying about losing my job or looking at a foot high stacks of work everyday. You were the light in that dark place and, now that I don't feel like someone is sitting on my chest every moment, I want you to know this healthy, happier me.

[Next entry: "In Henna and Hijab"]
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