You really wanna know how i feel about this book? Your book. About that, you should know it's a love affair. It started with a bottle of Rioja and a bowl of store-bought, no butter popcorn. I moved to the back porch and to the front stoop, to my bed and back to the couch. And cried.
It's the moments you pull perfectly from that mess of a kitchen drawer, finding a double A battery among old rolls of tape and loose paper clips, years-old sharpened pencils and magnets with pictures of your face- an older version of a younger you.
It makes me say, yea, I may love you and maybe we'll be married in ten years but then you'll come home on a SUnday afternoon, sweaty from a weekly bike ride with a bike group, like an adult fraternity yielding instant friends. I'll be making coffee for you and have a psychological moment with the pause of real time, moves so slow because my whole world just crashed around me. (and that's the scariest thing in the world)
To put it in other words, i read some of your book and listened to a child play a Steinway Brothers piano. Beginner's hesitance. That lingering, unsure sound of a note played. Am I actually hearing what I hear, the shadows of a note made me want to die, made me think of memories, fading in frozen time.
And now, after all this, I have heartburn from my turkey sausage decision at the Hollywood Diner on 6th Ave. I wa s a vegeatarian once but now I chose the Number 2 for it's patriotic promise. Or greasy ease, Easy like Sunday Morning, like that song you put on Michal's Greatest Hits, Vol. 1. The mix I listened to on the floor, rugburns and red pillows. I shaved my legs every day to be smooth for you. But you were late and that's OK. Because I don't bother with razors much these days. Fuck American freedom, I want French liberation in every strand of hair. Because the woman who wants romance, had it once before. Whimsical and unsafe, uncertain, as frustrating as realizing a perfect reunion was just a dream. My bed was once made of rose pedals and soft goodbye kisses at dawn. My wrist was a charm bracelet of dancing moons and, shit, I loved you so damn much.