Isn't it amazing how you can drown in a memory? I don't mean get lost in a memory, I do that all of the time. I wander the halls of my mind far too often, usually when laying in the dark before sunrise trying to drift to sleep, waiting for the sandman only to find he has forsaken me for another night.
No, I mean drown completely. Lost in the memory, drawn under by the emotions, like strong undercurrents beneath dark still water. Flashes more vivid than reality scattered throughout, like the flashes of the sky as you come up for air just long enough to stay alive and flounder a little more.
The Gazeebo. God or gods or spirits or fate or the abyss, help me, but the Gazeebo seems not to just be a turning point for a lot of last year, but a turning point of who I am now too. A lot happened there. Good, bad, and neither. Life deals you a new hand, you fold and the dealer shuffles. Or maybe we just imagine the dealer. Life shuffles anyway.
Crying at the Gazeebo.
Minutes earlier. Next to Fant with a friend I may see all of twice more in my entire waking life, saying goodbye to that friend. Graduating, you see.
Back at the gazeebo. A few days earlier. Singing Soco Amaretto Lime with my seniors.
Shuffle
Earlier still now. Near the fountain, leaning against the door with a cigarette. Getting to know another, new friend. She left not too long after.
Back at the gazeebo again. Earlier that same evening. Body pile, friend with a cigarette is there. A nibble, a smile.
Shuffle
On the steps of Hooper with friends. Middle of the year. A girl that I thought I liked. A lesson hard learned.
Back to the damned gazeebo.
Shuffle
That first night I got to know that friend, graduating friend, long time crush of mine. Graduation a long way off now. Sitting on the cold concrete in front of the steps of the AC, the wind chilly. Looking at the stars. She stopped being single, not even a week after that. Memories of memories. Early autumn. The kind of night that sticks with you the rest of your life.
That god damned gazeebo. My first kiss. Air not chilly, not yet, but working there. Quite warm, actually, though it wasn't the air, not all the air's fault. Beginning of the year.
Shuffle. Shuffle. Shuffle. Fold. The cards fly, the dealer think he is a magician. Pick a card, any card. The cards change, the cards scatter. Fifty-two card pickup, only the edges of the cards are razor blades.
Memories and dark water. Currents and tears. Who cares the difference. They both drown just the same. And the sleep after both can be equally as dark.
Saint Vitus Dance Community Member 
|
|
